,5 -r,. 



DEEPHAVEN 

BY SARAH ORNE^EWETT 

ILLUSTRATED BY 

CHARLES AND MARCIA 

WOODBURY 





BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

(3Ct)e. HiilJcrgibe if^ress, Cambridge 



M DCCCXCIV 






Copyright, 1877, 
By JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO. 

Copyright, 1893, 
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

A// rights reserved. 



TJie Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 







■^S3^^; 



Contents a^id List of Illustrations 

From Designs by 
Charles Herbert and Marcia Oakes Woodbury 



The Brandon House . . . Frontispiece 

CONTENTS AND LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS v 

Headpiece v 

Tailpiece vii 

PREFACE I 

Headpiece i 

KATE LANCASTER'S PLAN .... 9 

Boston 9 

The Stage-Coach 16 

Mrs. Kew 21 

THE BRANDON HOUSE AND THE LIGHT- 
HOUSE 24 

The Garret 24 

One Young Girl 31 

The Hall ^i,y 

In the Dory 45 



VI CONTENTS AND 

MV LADY BRANDON AND THE WIDOW JIM . 46 

Widow Jim's House . 46 

Mrs. Patton (The Widow Jim) 53 

Miss Brandon at her Piano ■ • . . . 61 

The Graveyard . 69 

Mrs. Dockum 'j'j 

DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 80 

Chantrey Elms 80 

Widow Tully 86 

The Sunday Dinner 91 

]\Ir. Dick and Mr. Lorimer 99 

THE CAPTAINS 103 

Old Warehouses 103 

The Old Captains 109 

DANNY 117 

Boats Going Out 117 

The Fish Houses 123 

Danny 129 

CAPTAIN SANDS 138 

Ruined Wharves 138 

Captain Sands 143 

THE CIRCUS AT DEN BY 151 

Going to the Circus 151 

Posters on 'Bijah Mauley's Barn . . . . 155 

" My sakes alive, ain't he big ! " 161 

The Tecture Notice 176 

CUNNER-FISHING 181 

The Butcher's Cart iSi 

The Hannah 187 

The Lighthouse 193 

Landing the Dory 199 

Skipper Scudder 203 

Captain Sands telling Stories 211 

Bedtime 224 

MRS. BONNY 226 

Mrs. Bonny Gathering Herbs 226 

Mrs. Bonny's Home ....... 2t^2> 

Mrs. Bonny at Home ...... 239 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS vii 

IN SHADOW 244 

Pitch Pines 244 

A Pebble Beach 249 

The Funeral 257 

Forsaken 265 

MISS CHAUNCEY 267 

East Parish 267 

Miss Chauncey 271 

Miss Chauncey's Garden 283 

LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN .... 288 

The Storm 288 

Somebody's Favorite Chair 294 

Clam Digging 301 

Tailpiece 305 





--i. c---- '■^^^" """^" 



Preface 

T/ic short lifetime of this little book has 
seen great changes in the conditions of 
provincial life in New England. Tiventy 
years ago, or a little more, the tivo heroines 
zvhose simple adventures a7'e here described 
might zvell have served as types of those pio- 
neers who lucre already on the eager quest for 
rural pleasures. Tiventy years ago, our fast- 
growing New England cities, tvhich had so 
lately been bnt large towns, fill of green gar- 
dens and qniet neighborhoods, were just begin- 
ning to be overcrowded and uncomfortable in 
summer. The steady infozv of immigration, 
and the ivay in which these cities had drazvn 
to themselves, like masses of quicksilver, 
much of the best life of the remotest villages, 
had made necessary a reflex curreiit that set 
cotmtiyward in summer. This presently 
showed itself to be of nnstispected force and 



2 PREFACE 

significance : it meant sometJiing more than the 
instinct for green fields and hills and the sea- 
shore ; crozuded towns and the open country 
were to be brought together in nezv association 
and dependence tipon each other. It appeared 
as if a seco7td Harvey had discovered a 7iew 
and national circnlation of vitality along the 
fast-multiplying railroads that spun their webs 
to bind together men ivho had once lived far 
apai't. The civil war, which had given so 
many citizens of the North their first journey 
and first knowledge of the zvorld ojttside their 
native parisJies ; the fashion set before the 
war by those gay Southerners who for tJie 
most part filled the fezu mountain and sea- 
shore hotels of tJie North; the increase of 
wealth, aftd of the number of persons who had 
houses in tozvn and coiintry both, — all these 
causes brougJit about great and almost stid- 
den changes in rustic life. Old farmhouses 
opened their doors to the cheerful gayety of 
summer ; the old jokes about the respective 
aggressions and ignorajices of city and country 
cotisins gave place to new compliments be- 
tzveen the summer boarder a7id his rustic host. 
It began to appear that Jieither men nor zv omen 
of the great towns zvcre any longer stayers-at- 
home according to the Scripture admonitio7i. 



PREFACE 3 

The yotmg ivriter of these Deephaven 
skctcJies ivas possessed by a dark fear that 
townspeople and country people would never 
nnderstand one another^ or learn to profit by 
tJieir new relationship. She 7nay have had 
the nnconscions desire to make some sort 
of explanation to those zuho still expected 
to find the caricatured Ya7ikee of fiction^ 
striped trousers, bell-crowned hat, and all, 
driving his steady horses along the shady 
roads. It seemed not altogether reasonable 
when timid ladies mistook a selectfuan for a 
tramp, because he happened to be crossing a 
field in his shirt sleeves. At the same time, 
she was sensible of grave wrong and misun- 
derstanding when these same timid ladies 
zvere regarded with suspicion, and their kind- 
nesses were believed to come from pride arid 
patronage. TJiere is a noble saying of Plato 
that the best thing that can be dojie for the 
people of a state is to make them acqtiainted 
with one another. It zvas, happily, in the 
zvriters childhood that Mrs. Stowe had lurit- 
ten of those who dwelt along the wooded sea- 
coast and by the decaying, shipless harbors of 
Maine. The first chapters of " The Pearl of 
Orrs Island'' gave tJie young author of '' Deep- 
Jiaven " to see with new eyes, and to folloiv 



4 PREFACE 

eagerly the old shore paths from one gray, 
weather-beaten house to another ivherc Genius 
pointed her the way. 

In those days, if one had Jjist passed her 
twentieth year, it zvas easy to be much dis- 
turbed by the sad discovery that certain phases 
of provincial life zvere fast waning in Neiv 
England. Small and oldfashioned towns, of 
which Deephaven may, by the reader s cour- 
tesy, stand as a type, were no longer almost 
selfsnbsistent, as in earlier times ; and while 
it was impossible to estimate the value of that 
zvider life that zvas floiuing in from the great 
springs, many a monrnfil villager felt the 
anxiety that came zvith these years of change. 
Tradition and time-honored custom zvere to 
be szvept away together by the irresistible cur- 
rent. Character and architecture seemed to 
lose individuality and distinction. The new 
riches of the country zvere seldom very well 
spent in those days; the money that the 
tourist or summer citizen left beJiind him 
was apt to be used to szveep azvay the quaint 
houses, the roadside thicket, the shady zvood- 
land, that had hired him first ; a? id the well- 
filled purses that zvere scattered in our conn- 
try s first great triumphal impulse of prosperity 
often came into tJie hands of people zvho 



PREFACE 5 

hastened to spoil instead of to mend the best 
things that their village held. It will remain 
for later generations to make amends for the 
sad nse of 7'iches after the war, for onr injury 
of what we inherited, for the irreparable loss 
of certain ancient b?nldings which wonld Jiave 
been twice as interesting in the next century 
as we are jnst beginning to be zvise enough to 
think them in this. 

That all the individuality and quaiiit per- 
sonal characteristics of rnral New England 
were so easily swept away, or are even now dy- 
ing out, we can refuse to believe. It appears, 
even, that they are better nourished and shine 
brighter by contrast than in former years. In 
rustic neighborhoods there will always be those 
whom George Sand had in mifid when she 
wrote her delightful preface for ^^Legendes 
Rustiques : " ^^ Lepaysan est done, si Von pent 
ainsi dire, le seul Jiistorien qui nous reste des 
temps antehistorique. Honneur et profit intel- 
lectuel a qui se consacrerait a la rechercJie de 
ses traditions merveilleuses de chaque hameau 
qui rassemblecs ou groupees, comparees enti'c 
elles et minutieusement dissequees, jetteraient 
peiLt-etre de grandes hteurs sur le nuit profonde 
des ages prim itifs. ' ' TJiere will also exist that 
other class of country people ivho preserve the 



6 PREFACE 

best traditions of culture and of maimers, from 
some divine inborn instinct toward ivJiat is 
simplest and best and purest, zvJio knoiv tJie 
best because they themselves are of kin to it. 
It is as hard to be just to onr contemporaries 
as it is easy to borrozu cjichantment in looking 
at the figures of the past ; bnt wJiile the 
Judges and Governors and grand ladies of 
old Deephaven are being lamented, ive must 
not forget to observe that it is Miss Carezv and 
Miss Lorimer wJio lament them, and wJio in- 
sist that there are no representatives of the 
ancient charm and dignity of their beloved 
town. Hnmari nature is the same the world 
over, provincial and rustic influences must 
ever produce viucJi the same effects upon char- 
acter, and toivn life zuill ever have in its gift 
the spirit of the present, ivhile it may take 
again from the quiet of hills and fields and 
the conservatism of cotintry hearts a gift from 
the spirit of the past. 

In the Preface to the first edition, of '* Deep- 
haven " it was explaifted that Deephaven ivas 
not to be found on the map of New England 
nnder another name, and that the characters 
were seldom drawn from life. It was often 
asserted to the contrary, wJiile the separate 
chapter's zvcre being publisJied from time to 
time in " The Atlantic Monthly,'' and made 



PREFACE 7 

certain ivhere the town really was, and the 
true names of its citizens and pezv-Jiolders. 
TJierefore it appeared there zvere already 
many '^places in America,'' not ^^feiL\' that 
were " toiicJied with the hue of decay'' Ports- 
month and York and Wells, which zvere 
known to the autJior, FairJiavcn and otJier sea- 
coast tozvns, zuhich zvere unhiown, zvere spoken 
of as the originals of this fictitious village 
zvhich still exists only in the mind. Strangely 
enough, the Atlantic Ocean alzvays seems to lie 
to the west of it rather than to the east, and 
the landscape generally takes its own ivay and 
furnishes impossible landmarks and impres- 
sions to the one person zvJio can see it clearly 
and in large. Some early knozvledge of the 
secret found later in the delightful story of 
^^ Peter Ibbetson " appears to have been fore- 
seen, but a lack of experience and a limited 
knozvledge of the zvide zvorld outside forced 
the imaginer of Deephaven to build Jier dear 
town of such restricted materials as lay within 
her grasp. The landscape itself is always fa- 
miliar to her thought, and far more real than 
many others zvhich have been seen since with 
preoccupied or tired eyes. 

The writer frankly confesses that the 
greater part of any value zvJiich these sketches 
may possess is in tJieir youthfulncss. There 



8 PREFACE 

are sentences wJiich make her feel as if she 
were the granduiotJier of the author of " Deep- 
haven'' and her Jieroines^ those '' two young 
ladies of virtue and hojionr, bearing aji invio- 
lable friendsJiip for each other,'' as tzvo others, 
less fortunate, are described in the preface to 
*' Clarissa Haidoive." She begs her readers to 
smile with her over those sentences as they are 
found not seldojn along the pages, and so the 
callow wings of what thozight itself to be wis- 
dom and the childish soul of sentiment zuill 
still be happy and untroubled. 

In a curious personal sense the author re- 
peats Jier attempt to explain the past and the 
pi-esent to each other. This little book ivill 
remind some of those friends who read it 
first of 

" — t^'g'^U that lit the olden days ; " 

but tJiere arc kind eyes, itnknozvn then, that 
are very dear noiv, and to these the pages will 
be neiu. This Preface must end as tJie first 
Pi^eface ended, with a dedication to my father 
and mother — my tivo best friends — aitd 
then to all my other friends ivhose names I 
say to myself lovingly, though I do not write 
them Jicre. 

S. O.J. 

South Berwick, Maine, October, 1893. 




Kate Lancaster's Plan 



I HAD been spending the winter in Bos- 
ton, and Kate Lancaster and I had been 
together a great deal, for we are the best of 
friends. It happened that the morning when 
this story begins I had waked up feeling 
sorry, and as if something dreadful were go- 
ing to happen. There did not seem to be 
any good reason for it, so I undertook to 
discourage myself more by thinking that it 
would soon be time to leave town, and how 
much I should miss being with Kate and 
my other friends. My mind was still dis- 
quieted when I went down to breakfast ; but 
beside my plate I found, with a hoped-for 
letter from my father, who was in China, a 
note from Kate. To this day I have never 
known any explanation of that depression of 



TO DEEPHAVEN 

my spirits, and I hope that the good luck 
which followed will help some reader to lose 
fear, and to smile at such shadows if any 
chance to come. 

Kate had evidently written to me in an 
excited state of mind, for her note was not 
so trig-looking as usual ; but this is what 
she said : — 

Dear Helen, — I have a plan — I think it a 
most delightful plan — in which you and I are 
chief characters. Promise that you will say yes ; 
if you do not, you will have to remember all your 
life that you broke a girl's heart. Come round 
early, and lunch with me and dine with me. I 'm 
to be all alone, and it 's a long story and will 
need a great deal of talking over. 

K. 

I showed this note to my aunt, and soon 
went round, very much interested. My 
latch-key opened the Lancasters' door, and 
I hurried to the parlor, where I heard my 
friend practicing with great diligence. I 
went up to her, and she turned her head and 
kissed me solemnl) You need not smile ; 
we are not sentimei al girls, and are both 
much averse to indiscriminate kissing, 
though I have not the adroit habit of shying 
in which Kate is proficient. It would some- 



KATE LANCASTER'S PLAN i i 

times be impolite in any one else, but she 
shies so affectionately. 

''Won't you sit down, dear?" she said, 
with great ceremony, and went on with her 
playing, which was abominable that morning; 
her fingers stepped on each other, and, what- 
ever the tune might have been in reality, it 
certainly had a most remarkable incoherence 
as I heard it then. I took up the new Littell 
and made believe read it, and finally threw 
it at Kate ; you would have thought we were 
two children. 

" Have you heard that my grand-aunt, 
Miss Katharine Brandon of Deephaven, is 
dead ? " 

I knew that she had died in November, 
at least six months before. *' Don't be non- 
sensical, Kate!" said I. ''What do you 
mean to tell me ? " 

" My grand-aunt died very old, and was 
the last of her generation. She had a sister 
and three brothers, one of whom had the 
honor of being my grandfather. Mamma is 
sole heir to the family estates in Deephaven, 
wharf -property and a^^ .nd it is a great in- 
convenience to her. ^ he house is a charm- 
ing old house, and some of my ancestors 
who followed the sea brought home the 
greater part of its furnishings. Miss Kath- 



12 DEEPHAVEN 

arine was a person who ignored all frivolities, 
and her house was as sedate as herself. I 
have been there but little, for when I was a 
child my aunt found no pleasure in the 
society of noisy children who upset her trea- 
sures, and when I was older she did not care 
to see strangers, and after I left school she 
grew more and more feeble ; I had not been 
there for two years when she died. Mamma 
went down very often. The town is a quaint 
old place which has seen better days. There 
are high rocks at the shore, and there is a 
beach, and there are woods inland, and hills, 
and there is the sea. It might be dull in 
Deephaven for two young ladies who were 
fond of gay society and depended upon ex- 
citement, I suppose; but for two little girls 
who were fond of each other and could play 
in the boats, and dig and build houses in the 
sea-sand, and gather shells, and carry their 
dolls wherever they went, what could be 
pleasanter .'* " 

" Nothing," said I promptly. 

Kate had told this a little at a time, with 
a few appropriate bars of music between, 
which suddenly reminded me of the story of 
a Chinese procession which I had read in one 
of Marryat's novels when I was a child : *' A 
thousand white elephants richly caparisoned. 



KATE LANCASTER'S PLAN 13 

— ti-tiim tilly-lily," and so on, for a page or 
two. She seemed to have finished her story 
for that time, and while it was dawning upon 
me what she meant, she sang a bit from one 
of Jean Ingelow's verses : — 

*' Will ye step aboard, my dearest, 
For the high seas lie before us ? " 

and then came over to sit beside me and tell 
the whole story in a more sensible fashion. 

'' You know that my father has been 
meaning to go to England in the autumn ? 
Yesterday he told us that he is to leave in a 
month and will be away all summer, and 
mamma is going with him. Jack and Willy 
are to join a party of their classmates who are 
to spend nearly the whole of the long vacation 
at Lake Superior. I don't wish to go abroad 
again now, and I did not like any plan that 
was proposed to me. Aunt Anna was here 
all the afternoon, and is willing to take the 
house at Newport, which is very pleasant 
and unexpected, for she hates housekeeping. 
Mamma thought of course that I should stay 
with her, but I did not wish to do that, and 
it would only result in my keeping house for 
her visitors, whom I know very little ; and 
she will be much more free and independent 
by herself. Beside, she can have my room 
if I am not there. I have promised to make 



H DEEPHAVEN 

her a long visit in Baltimore next winter in- 
stead. I told mamma that I should like to 
stay here and go away when I choose. There 
are ever so many visits which I have prom- 
ised ; I could stay with you and your Aunt 
Mary at Lenox if she goes there, for a while, 
and I have always wished to spend a whole 
summer in town ; but mamma did not en- 
courage that at all. In the evening papa 
gave her a letter which had come from Mr. 
Dockum, the man who takes care of Aunt 
Katharine's place, and the most charming 
idea came into my head, and I said that I 
meant to spend my summer in Deephaven. 

" At first they laughed at me, and then 
they said I might go if I chose, and at last 
they thought nothing could be pleasanter, 
and mamma wishes now that she were going 
herself. I asked if she did not think you 
would be the best person to keep me com- 
pany, and she does, and papa announced that 
he was just going to suggest my asking you. 
I am to take Ann and Maggie, who will be 
overjoyed, for they came from that part of the 
country, and the other servants are to go 
with Aunt Anna, and old Nora will come to 
take care of this house, as she always does. 
Perhaps you and I will come up to town once 
in a while for a few days. We shall have 



KATE LANCASTER'S PLAN 15 

such jolly housekeeping. Mamma and I sat 
up very late last night, and everything is 
planned. Mr. Dockum's house is very near 
Aunt Katharine's, so we shall not be lonely; 
though I know you 're no more afraid of that 
than I. O Helen, won't you go .^ " 

Do you think it took me long to decide ? 

Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster sailed the lOth of 
June, and my Aunt Mary went to spend her 
summer among the Berkshire Hills, so I 
was at the Lancasters' ready to welcome 
Kate when she came home, after having said 
good-by to her father and mother. We 
meant to go to Deephaven in a week, but 
were obliged to stay in town longer. Boston 
was nearly deserted of our friends at the last, 
and we used to take quiet walks in the cool 
of the evening after dinner, up and down 
the street, or sit on the front steps in com- 
pany with the people left in charge of the 
other houses, who also sometimes walked up 
and down and looked at us wonderingly. 
We had much shopping to do in the daytime, 
for there was a probability of our spending 
many days indoors, and as we were not to 
be near any large town, and did not mean 
to come to Boston for weeks at least, there 
was a great deal to be remembered and ar- 
ranged. We enjoyed making our plans, and 



i6 



DEEPHAVEN 



deciding what we should want, and going to 
the shops together. I think we felt most 
important the day we conferred with Ann 
and made out a list of the provisions which 
must be ordered. This was being house- 
keepers in earnest. Mr. Dockum happened 




Uu s. 



to come to town, and we sent Ann and Mag- 
gie, with most of our boxes, to Deephaven 
in his company a day or two before we were 
ready to go ourselves, and when we reached 
there the house was opened and in order 
for us. 

On our journey to Deephaven we left the 
railway twelve miles from that place, and 
took passage in a stage-coach. There was 



KATE LANCASTER'S PLAN 17 

only one passenger beside ourselves. She 
was a very large, thin, weather-beaten woman, 
and looked so tired and lonesome and 
good-natured, that I could not help saying 
it was very dusty ; and she was apparently 
delighted to answer that she should think 
everybody was sweeping, and she always 
felt, after being in the cars avv^hile, as if she 
had been taken all to pieces and left in 
the different places. This was the beginning 
of our friendship with Mrs. Kew. 

After this conversation we looked indus- 
triously out of the window into the pastures 
and pine woods. I had given up my seat to 
her, for I do not mind riding backward in the 
least, and you would have thought I had done 
her the greatest favor of her life. I think she 
was the most grateful of women, and I was 
often reminded of a remark one of my friends 
once made about some one : " If you give 
Bessie a half-sheet of letter paper, she behaves 
to you as if it were the most exquisite of 
presents ! " Kate and I had some fruit left 
in our lunch basket, and divided it with Mrs. 
Kew, but after the first mouthful we looked 
at each other in dismay. "Lemons with 
oranges' clothes on, are n't they .'' " said she, 
as Kate threw hers out of the window, and 
mine went after it for company ; and after 



i8 dp:ephaven 

this we began to be very friendly indeed. We 
both liked the odd woman, there was some- 
thing so straightforward and kindly about 
her. 

" Are you going to Deephaven, dear .^ " she 
asked me, and then : " I wonder if you are 
going to stay long ? All summer ? Well, 
that 's clever ! I do hope you will come out 
to the Light to see me ; young folks 'most 
always like my place. Most likely your 
friends will fetch you." 

" Do you know the Brandon house ? " asked 
Kate. 

"Well as I do the meeting-house. There ! 
I wonder I did n't know from the beginning, 
but I had been a-trying all the way to settle 
it who you could be. I 've been up country 
some weeks, stopping with my mother, and 
she seemed so set to have me stay till straw- 
berry-time and would hardly let me come 
now. You see, she 's getting to be old ; why, 
every time I 've come away for fifteen years 
she 's said it was the last time I 'd ever see 
her, but she 's a dreadful smart woman of her 
age. * He ' wrote me some o' Mrs. Lancaster's 
folks were going to take the Brandon house 
this summer ; and so you are the ones ? It 's 
a sightly old place ; I used to go and see Miss 
Katharine. She must have left a power of 



KATE LANCASTER'S PLAN 19 

china-ware. She set a great deal by the 
house, and she kept everything just as it used 
to be in her mother's day." 

" Then you hve in Deephaven too ? " asked 
Kate. 

" I 've been here the better part of my life. 
I was raised up among the hills in Vermont, 
and I shall always be a real up-country 
woman if I live here a hundred years. The 
sea does n't come natural to me, it kind 
of worries me, though you won't find a 
happier woman than I be, 'long shore. When 
I was first married * he ' had a schooner and 
went to the Banks, and once he was off on 
a whaling voyage, and I hope I may never 
come to so long a three years as those were 
again, though I was up to mother's. Before 
I was married he had been 'most everywhere. 
When he came home that time from whaling, 
he found I 'd taken it so to heart that he 
said he 'd never go off again, and then he got 
the chance to keep Deephaven Light, and 
we've lived there seventeen years come 
January. There is n't no great pay, but then 
nobody tries to get it away from us, and we 've 
got so 's to be contented, if it is lonesome in 
winter." 

'' Do you really live in the lighthouse ? I 
remember how I used to beg to be taken out 



20 DEEPHAVEN 

there when I was a child, and how I used to 
watch for the light at night," said Kate, 
enthusiastically. 

So began a friendship which we both still 
treasure, for knowing Mrs. Kew was one of 
the pleasantest things which happened to us 
in that delightful summer, and she used to 
do so much for our pleasure, and was so good 
to us. When we went out to the lighthouse 
for the last time to say good-by, we were 
very sorry girls indeed. We had no idea until 
then how much she cared for us, and her 
affection touched us very much. She told 
us that she loved us as if we belonged to her, 
and begged us not to forget her, — as if we 
ever could ! — and to remember that there 
was always a home and a warm heart for us 
if she were alive. Kate and I have often 
agreed that few of our acquaintances are 
half so entertaining. Her comparisons were 
most striking and amusing, and her comments 
upon the books she read — for she was a 
great reader — were very shrewd and clever, 
and always to the point. She w^as never out 
of temper, even when the barrels of oil were 
being rolled across her kitchen floor. And 
she was such a wise woman ! This stage- 
ride, which we expected to find tiresome, 
we enjoyed very much, and we were glad 




Mrs. Kexv 



KATE LANCASTER'S PLAN 23 

to think, when the coach stopped, and *' he " 
came to meet her with great satisfaction, 
that we had one friend in Deephaven at all 
events. 

I liked the house from my very first sight 
of it. It stood behind a row of poplars which 
were as green and flourishing as the pop- 
lars which stand in stately processions in 
the fields around Quebec. It was an impos- 
ing great white house, and the lilacs were 
tall, and there were crowds of rosebushes not 
yet out of bloom ; and there were box borders, 
and there were great elms at the side of the 
house and down the road. The hall door 
stood wide open, and my hostess turned to 
me as we went in, with one of her sweet, 
sudden smiles. ''Won't we have a good 
time, Nelly ? " said she. And I thought we 
should. 

So our summer's housekeeping began in 
most pleasant fashion. It was just at sunset, 
and Ann's and Maggie's presence made the 
house seem familiar at once. Maggie had 
been unpacking for us, and there was a 
delicious supper for the hungry girls. Later 
in the evening we went down to the shore, 
which was not very far away ; the fresh sea- 
air was welcome after the dusty day, and it 
seemed so quiet and pleasant in Deephaven. 




The Brandon Hottse and the Lighthouse 

I DO not know that the Brandon house is 
really very remarkable, but I never have 
been in one that interested me in the same 
way. Kate used to recount to select audi- 
ences at school some of her experiences with 
her Aunt Katharine, and it was popularly 
believed that she once carried down some 
indestructible picture-books when they were 
first in fashion, and the old lady basted them 
for her to hem round the edges at the 
rate of two a day. It may have been fab- 
ulous. It was impossible to imagine any 
children in the old place; everything was 
for grown people ; even the stair-railing was 



THE BRANDON HOUSE 25 

too high to slide down on. The chairs looked 
as if they had been put, at the furnishing of 
the house, in their places, and there they 
meant to remain. The carpets were particu- 
larly interesting, and I remember Kate's 
pointing out to me one day a great square 
figure in one, and telling me she used to keep 
house there with her dolls for lack of a better 
play-house, and if one of them chanced to fall 
outside the boundary stripe, it was immedi- 
ately put to bed with a cold. It is a house 
with great possibilities ; it might easily be 
made charming. There are four very large 
rooms on the lower floor, and six above, a 
wide hall in each story, and a fascinating 
garret over the whole, where were many 
mysterious old chests and boxes, in one of 
which we found Kate's grandmother's love- 
letters ; and you may be sure the vista of 
rummages which Mr. Lancaster had laughed 
about was explored to its very end. The 
rooms all have elaborate cornices, and the 
lower hall is very fine, with an archway 
dividing it, and panelings of all sorts, and 
a great door at each end, through which the 
lilacs in front and the old pensioner plum- 
trees in the garden are seen exchanging bows 
and gestures. Coming from the Lancasters' 
high city house, it did not seem as if we had 



26 DEEPIIAVEN 

to go upstairs at all there, for every step of 
the stairway is so broad and low, and you 
come halfway to a square landing with an old 
straight-backed chair in each farther corner ; 
and between them a large round-topped 
window, with a cushioned seat, looking out 
on the garden and the village, the hills far 
inland, and the sunset beyond all. Then you 
turn and go up a few more steps to the 
upper hall, where we used to stay a great 
deal. There were more old chairs and a pair 
of remarkable sofas, on which we used to 
deposit the treasures collected in our wan- 
derings. The wide window which looks out 
on the lilacs and the sea was a favorite seat 
of ours. Facing each other on either side of 
it are two old secretaries, and one of them we 
ascertained to be the hiding-place of secret 
drawers, in which may be found valuable 
records deposited by ourselves one rainy 
day when we first explored it. We wrote, 
between us, a tragic "journal" on some 
yellow old letter-paper we found in the desk. 
We put it in the most hidden drawer by 
itself, and flatter ourselves that it will be 
regarded with great interest some time or 
other. Of one of the front rooms, "the best 
chamber," we stood rather in dread. It is 
very remarkable that there seem to be no 



THE BRANDON HOUSE 27 

ghost-stories connected with any part of the 
house, particularly this. We are neither of 
us nervous ; but there is certainly something 
dismal about the room. The huge curtained 
bed and immense easy-chairs, windows, and 
everything were draped in some old-fash- 
ioned kind of white cloth which always 
seemed to be waving and moving about of 
itself. The carpet was most singularly col- 
ored with dark reds and indescribable grays 
and browns, and the pattern, after a whole 
summer's study, could never be followed 
with one's eye. The paper was captured in 
a French prize somewhere, some time in 
the last century, and part of the figure was 
shaggy, and therein little spiders found 
habitation, and went visiting their acquaint- 
ances across the shiny places. The color 
was an unearthly pink and a forbidding 
maroon, with dim white spots, which gave it 
the appearance of having moulded. It made 
you low-spirited to look long in the mirror ; 
and the great lounge one could not have 
cheerful associations with, after hearing that 
Miss Brandon herself did not like it, having 
seen so many of her relatives lie there dead. 
There were fantastic china ornaments from 
Bible subjects on the mantel, and the only 
picture was one of the Maid of Orleans tied 



28 DEEPHAVEN 

with an unnecessarily strong rope to a very 
stout stake. The best parlor we also rarely 
used, because all the portraits which hung 
there had for some unaccountable reason taken 
a violent dislike to us, and followed us sus- 
piciously with their eyes. The furniture was 
stately and very uncomfortable, and there was 
something about the room which suggested 
an invisible funeral. 

There is not very much to say about the din- 
ing-room. It was not specially interesting, 
though the sea was in sight from the win- 
dows. There were some old Dutch pictures on 
the wall, so dark that one could scarcely make 
out what they were meant to represent, and 
one or two engravings. There was a huge 
sideboard, for which Kate had brought 
down from Boston Miss Brandon's own silver 
which had stood there for so many years, 
and looked so much more at home and in 
place than any other possibly could have 
looked, and Kate also found in the closet 
the three great decanters, with silver labels 
chained round their necks, which had always 
been companions of the tea-service in her 
aunt's lifetime. From the little closets in 
the sideboard came a most significant odor 
of cake and wine whenever one opened the 
doors. We used Miss Brandon's beautiful 



THE BRANDON HOUSE 29 

old blue china, which she had given to Kate, 
and which had been carefully packed all 
winter as if to be taken away. Kate sat at 
the head and I at the foot of the round table, 
and I must confess that we were apt to have 
either a feast or a famine, for at first we often 
forgot to provide our dinners. If this were 
the case, Maggie was sure to serve us with 
most derisive elegance, and make us wait for 
as much ceremony as she thought necessary 
for one of Mrs. Lancaster's dinner-parties. 

The west parlor was our favorite room down- 
stairs. It had a great fireplace framed in blue 
and white Dutch tiles, which ingeniously and 
instructively represented the careers of the 
good and the bad man ; the starting place 
of each being a very singular cradle in the 
centre at the top. The last two of the series 
are very high art ; a great cofhn stands in 
the foreground of each, and the virtuous man 
is being led off by two disagreeable-looking 
angels, while the wicked one is hastening 
from an indescribable but unpleasant assem- 
blage of claws and horns and eyes which is 
rapidly advancing from the distance, open- 
mouthed, and bringing a chain with it. 

There was a large cabinet holding all the 
small curiosities and knick-knacks there 
seemed to be no other place for, — odd china 



30 DEEPHAVEN 

figures and cups and vases, unaccountable 
Chinese carvings and exquisite corals and sea- 
shells, minerals and Swiss wood-work, and 
articles of verttt from the South Seas. Un- 
derneath were stored boxes of letters and old 
magazines ; for this was one of the houses 
where nothinsf seems to have been thrown 
away. In one parting we found a parcel of 
old manuscript sermons, the existence of 
which was a mystery, until Kate remembered 
there had been a gifted son of the house who 
entered the ministry and soon died. The 
windows of this room had each a pane of 
beautiful old stained glass in the upper and 
lower sashes, apparently taken from some 
older English house, with quaint shields and 
crests, and on the wide sills beneath we used 
to put our immense bouquets of field flowers. 
There was one place which I liked and sat in 
more than any other. The chimney filled 
nearly the whole side of the room, all but 
this little corner, where there was just room 
for a very comfortable high -backed cushioned 
chair, and a narrow window where I always 
had a bunch of fresh green ferns in a tall 
champagne-glass. I used to write there 
often, and always sat there when Kate sang 
and played. She sent for a tuner, and used to 
successfully coax the long-imprisoned music 



THE BRANDON HOUSE 



31 



from the antiquated piano, and sing for her 
visitors by the hour. She almost always 
sang her oldest songs, for they seemed most 
in keeping with everything about us. I used 
to fancy that 
the portraits 
liked our be- 
ing there. 
There was 
one young 
girl who 
seemed soli- ^ 
tary and for- ^ 
lorn among 
the rest in 
the room, 
who were all 
middle-aged. 
For their 
part they 
looked amiable, but rather unhappy, as if she 
had come in, and interrupted their conversa- 
tion. We both grew very fond of her, and it 
seemed, when we went in the last morning on 
purpose to take leave of her, as if she looked 
at us imploringly. She was soon afterward 
boxed up, and now enjoys society after her 
own heart in Kate's room in Boston. 

There was the laro^est sofa I ever saw 




32 DEEPHAVEN 

opposite the fireplace ; it must have been 
brought in in pieces, and built in the room. 
It was broad enough for Kate and me to lie on 
together with our books, and was very high 
and square ; but there was a pile of soft 
cushions at either end. We used to enjoy it 
very much in September, when the evenings 
were long and cool, and we had many can- 
dles, and a fire — and crickets too — on the 
hearth, and the dear dog lying on the rug. 
I remember one rainy night, just before our 
friends Miss Tennant and Kitty Bruce went 
away ; we had a real driftwood fire, and blew 
out the lights and told stories, Kate and I 
were unusually entertaining, for we became 
familiar with the family record of the town, 
and could recount marvelous adventures by 
land and sea, and ghost-stories by the dozen. 
We had never either of us been in a society 
consisting of so many traveled people ! 
Hardly a man but had been the most of his 
life at sea. Speaking of ghost-stories, I must 
tell you that once in the summer two Cam- 
bridge girls, who were spending a week with 
us, unwisely enticed us into giving some 
thrilling recitals, which nearly frightened 
them out of their wits, and Kate and I were 
finally in terror ourselves. We had all been 
on the sofa in the dark, singing and talking, 
and were waiting in great suspense after I 



THE BRANDON HOUSE $$ 

had finished one of such particular horror 
that I declared it should be the last, when 
we heard footsteps on the hall stairs. There 
were lights in the dining-room which shone 
faintly through the half-closed door, and we 
saw something white and shapeless come 
slowly down, and clutched each other's gowns 
in agony. It was only Kate's great dog, 
who came in and laid his head in her lap and 
slept peacefully. We thought we could not 
sleep a wink after this, and I bravely went 
alone out to the light to see my watch, and, 
finding it was past twelve, we concluded to 
sit up all night and to go down to the shore 
at sunrise, it would be so much easier than 
getting up early some morning. We had 
been out rowing and had taken a long walk 
the day before, and were obliged to dance 
and make other slight exertions to keep 
ourselves awake at one time. We lunched 
at two, and I never shall forget the sunrise 
that morning ; but we were singularly quiet 
and abstracted that day, and indeed for 
several days after Deephaven was *' a land 
in which it seemed always afternoon," we 
breakfasted so late. 

As Mrs. Kew had said, there was "a power 
of china." Kate and I were convinced that 
the lives of her grandmothers must have been 
spent in giving tea parties. We counted ten 



34 DEEPIIAVEN 

sets of cups, besides quantities of stray ones ; 
and some member of the family had evidently 
devoted her time to making a collection of 
pitchers. 

There was an escritoire in Miss Brandon's 
own room, which we looked over one day. 
There was a little package of letters; ship 
letters mostly, tied with a very pale and tired- 
looking blue ribbon. They were in a drawer 
with a locket holding a faded miniature on 
ivory and a lock of brown hair, and there 
were also some dry twigs and bits of leaf 
which had long ago been bright wild roses, 
such as still bloom among the Deephaven 
rocks. Kate said that she had often heard 
her mother wonder why her aunt never had 
cared to marry, for she had chances enough 
doubtless, and had been rich and handsome 
and finely educated. So there was a sailor- 
lover after all, and perhaps he had been lost 
at sea and she faithfully kept the secret, never 
mourning outwardly. " And I always thought 
her the most matter-of-fact old lady," said 
Kate; "yet here's her romance, after all." 
We put the letters outside on a chair to read, 
but afterwards carefully replaced them, with- 
out untying them. I 'm glad we did, but we 
felt more than heroic at the time. There were 
other letters which we did read, and which 
interested us very much, — letters from her 



THE BRANDON HOUSE 35 

girl friends written in the boarding-school 
vacations and just after she finished school. 
Those in one of the smaller packages were 
charming ; it must have been such a bright, 
nice girl who wrote them ! They were very 
few, and were tied with black ribbon, and 
marked on the outside in girlish writing : 
" My dearest friend, Dolly McAllister, died 
September 3, 1809, aged eighteen." The 
ribbon had evidently been untied and the 
letters read many times. One began : " My 
dear, delightful Kitten : I am quite over- 
joyed to find my father has business which 
will force him to go to Deephaven next week, 
and he kindly says if there be no more rain I 
may ride with him to see you. I will surely 
come, for if there is danger of spattering my 
gown and he bids me stay at home, I shall go 
galloping after him and overtake him when it 
is too late to send me back. I have so much 
to tell you." I wish we knew more about 
the visit. Poor Miss Katharine! it made 
us sad to look over these treasures of her 
girlhood. There were her compositions and 
exercise-books ; some samplers and queer 
little keepsakes ; withered flowers and some 
pretty pebbles and other things of like value, 
with which there was probably some pleasant 
association. '' Only think of her keeping 
them all her days," said I to Kate. "I am 



^6 DEEPHAVEN 

continually throwing some relic of the kind 
away, because I forget why I have it ! " 

There was a box in the lower part which 
Kate was glad to find, for she had heard her 
mother wonder if some such things were not 
in existence. It held a crucifix and a mass- 
book and some rosaries, and Kate told me 
Miss Katharine's youngest and favorite bro- 
ther had become a Roman Catholic while 
studying in Europe. It was a dreadful blow 
to the family ; for in those sternly Protestant 
days there could have been few deeper dis- 
graces to the Brandon family than to have 
one of its sons change his form of religion. 
Only Miss Katharine treated him with kind- 
ness, and after a time he disappeared without 
telling even her where he was going, and was 
only heard from indirectly once or twice 
afterward. It was a great grief to her. " And 
mamma knows," said Kate, "that she always 
had a lingering hope of his return or to hear 
that he was cloistered somewhere, for one of 
the last times she saw Aunt Katharine before 
she was ill, she spoke of soon going to be with 
all the rest, and said, * Though your Uncle 
Henry, dear,' — and stopped and smiled 
sadly; 'you'll think me a very foolish old 
woman, but I never quite gave up thinking 
he mio:ht come home.' " 




The Hall 



THE BRANDON HOUSE 39 

Mrs. Kew did the honors of the lighthouse 
thoroughly on our first visit ; but I think we 
rarely went to see her that we did not make 
some entertaining discovery. Mr. Kew's 
nephew, a smiling youth of forty, lived with 
them, and the two men were of a mechanical 
turn and had invented numerous aids to 
housekeeping, — appendages to the stove, 
and fixtures on the walls for everything that 
could be hung up ; catches in the floor to 
hold the doors open, and ingenious apparatus 
to close them ; but, above all, a system of 
barring and bolting for the wide "fore door," 
which would have disconcerted an energetic 
battering-ram. After all this work being ex- 
pended, Mrs. Kew informed us that it was 
usually wide open all night in summer 
weather. On the back of this door I dis- 
covered one day a row of marks, and asked 
their significance. It seemed that Mrs. Kew 
had attempted one summer to keep count of 
the number of people who inquired about the 
depredations of the neighbors' chickens. I\Irs. 
Kew's bedroom was partly devoted to the fine 
arts. There was a larsfe collection of like- 
nesses of her relatives and friends on the 
wall, w^hich was interesting in the extreme. 
Mrs. Kew was alwa3^s much pleased to tell 
their names, and her remarks about any 



40 DEEPHAVEN 

feature not exactly perfect were very search- 
ing and critical. "That's my oldest bro- 
ther's wife, Clorinthy Adams that was. 
She 's well featured, if it were not for her 
nose, and that looks as if it had been thrown 
at her, and she was n't particular about hav- 
ing it on firm, in hopes of getting a better 
one. She sets by her looks, though." 

There were often sailing-parties that came 
there from up and down the coast. One day 
Kate and I were spending the afternoon at 
the Light ; we had been fishing, and were 
sitting in the doorway listening to a reminis- 
cence of the winter Mrs. Kew kept school at 
the Four Corners ; saw a boatful coming, and 
all lost our tempers. Mrs. Kew had a lame 
ankle, and Kate offered to go up with the 
visitors. There were some girls and young 
men who stood on the rocks awhile, and then 
asked us, with much better manners than the 
people who usually came, if they could see 
the lighthouse, and Kate led the way. She 
was dressed that day in a costume w^e both 
frequently wore, of gray skirts and blue sailor- 
jacket, and her boots were much the worse 
for wear. The celebrated Lancaster com- 
plexion was much darkened by the sun. Mrs. 
Kew expressed a wish to know what ques- 
tions they would ask her, and I followed after 



THE BRANDON HOUSE 41 

a few minutes. They seemed to have finished 
asking about the lantern, and to have become 
personal. 

" Don't you get tired staying here ? " 

" No, indeed ! " said Kate, 

"Is that your sister downstairs ?" 

"No, I have no sister." 

" I should think you would wish she was. 
Are n't you ever lonesome ? " 

" Everybody is, sometimes," said Kate. 

"But it's such a lonesome place!" said 
one of the girls. " I should think you would 
get work away. I live in Boston. Why, it 's 
so awful quiet ! nothing but the water, and 
the wind, when it blows ; and I think either 
of them is worse than nothing. And only 
this little bit of a rocky place ! I should want 
to go to walk." 

I heard Kate pleasantly refuse the offer of 
pay for her services, and then they began to 
come down the steep stairs laughing and 
chattering with each other. Kate stayed be- 
hind to close the doors and leave everything 
all right, and the girl who had talked the most 
waited too, and when they were on the stairs 
just above me, and the others out of hearing, 
she said, " You 're real good to show us the 
things. I guess you '11 think I 'm silly, but I 
do like you ever so much ! I wish you would 



42 DEEPHAVEN 

come to Boston. I 'm in a real nice store, — 

H 's, on Winter Street ; and they '11 want 

new help in October. Perhaps you could be 
at my counter. I 'd teach you, and you could 
board with me. I 've got a real comfortable 
room, and I suppose I might have more 
things, for I get good pay ; but I like to send 
my money home to mother. I 'm at my aunt's 
now, but I am going back next Monday, and 
if you will tell me what your name is, I '11 
find out for certain about the place, and write 
you. My name's Mary Wendell." 

I knew by Kate's voice that this had 
touched her. '* You are very kind ; thank 
you ever so much," said she ; " but I cannot 
go and work with you. I should like to know 
you. I live in Boston too ; my friend and I 
are staying over in Deephaven for the sum- 
mer only." She held out her hand to the 
girl, whose face had changed from its first 
expression of earnest good-humor to a very 
startled one ; and when she noticed Kate's 
hand, and a ring of hers, which had been 
turned round, she looked really frightened. 

•*0h, will you please excuse me .^ " said 
she, blushing. ** I ought to have known bet- 
ter ; but you showed us round so willing, and 
I never thought of your not living here. I 
did n't mean to be rude." 



THE BRANDON HOUSE 43 

" Of course you did not, and you were not. 
I am so glad you said it, and glad you like 
me," said Kate ; and just then the party called 
the girl, and she hurried away, and I joined 
Kate. '* Then you heard it all. That was 
worth having ! " said she. *' She was such 
a dear, honest little soul, and I mean to look 
for her when I get home." 

Sometimes we used to go out to the Light 
early in the morning with the fishermen 
who went that way to the fishing-grounds, 
but we usually made the voyage early in 
the afternoon if it were not too hot, and 
we went fishing off the rocks or sat in the 
house with Mrs. Kew, who often related 
some of her Vermont experiences, or Mr. 
Kew would tell us surprising sea-stories 
and ghost-stories like a story-book sailor. 
Then we would have an unreasonably good 
supper, and afterward climb the ladder to the 
lantern to see the lamps lighted and sit there 
for a while watching the ships and the sun- 
set. Almost all the coasters came in sight of 
Deephaven, and the sea outside the Light was 
their grand highway. Twice from the light- 
house we saw a yacht squadron like a flock 
of great white birds. As for the sunsets, it 
used to seem often as if we were near the 
heart of them, for the sea all around us caught 



44 DEEPHAVEN 

the color of the clouds, and though the glory 
was wonderful, I remember best one still 
evening when there was a bank of heavy gray 
clouds in the west shutting down like a 
curtain, and the sea was silver-colored. You 
could look under and beyond the curtain of 
clouds into the palest, clearest yellow sky. 
There was a little black boat in the distance 
drifting slowly, climbing one white wave after 
another, as if it were bound out into that 
other world beyond. But presently the sun 
came from behind the clouds, and the daz- 
zling golden light changed the look of every- 
thing, and it was the time then to say one 
thought it a beautiful sunset ; while before 
one could only keep very still, and watch the 
boat, and wonder if heaven would not be 
somehow like that far, faint color, which was 
neither sea nor sky. 

When we came down from the lighthouse 
and it grew late, we would beg for an hour 
or two longer on the water, and row away in 
the twilight far out from land, where, with 
our faces turned from the Light, it seemed as 
if we were alone, and the sea shoreless ; and 
as the darkness closed round us softly, we 
watched the stars come out, and were always 
glad to see Kate's star and my star, which 
we had chosen when we were children. I 



I 



THE BRANDON HOUSP: 45 

used long ago to be sure of one thing, — that, 
however far away heaven might be, it could 
not be out of sight of the stars. Sometimes 
in the evening we waited out at sea for the 
moonrise, and then we would take the oars 
again and go slowly in, once in a while sing- 
ing or talking, but oftenest silent. 





My Lady Brandon and the Widow Jim 

WHEN it was known that we had ar- 
rived in Deephaven, the people who 
had known Miss Brandon so well, and Mrs. 
Lancaster also, seemed to consider them- 
selves Kate's friends by inheritance, and 
were most kind and friendly in either com- 
ing to see us or sending pleasant messages. 
Before the first week had ended we had no 
lack of society. They were not strangers to 
Kate to begin with, and as for me, I think it 
is easy for me to be contented, and to feel 
at home anywhere. I have the good fortune 
and the misfortune to belong to the navy, — 



MV LADY BRAXDOX 47 

that is, my father does, — and my life has been 
consequently an unsettled one except during 
the years of my school life, when my friend- 
ship with Kate began. 

I think I should be happy in any town if 
I were living there with Kate Lancaster. I 
will not praise my friend as I can praise her, 
or say half the things I might say honestly. 
She is so fresh and good and true, and enjoys 
life so heartily. She is so childlike, without 
being childish ; and I do not tell you that she 
is faultless, but when she makes mistakes she 
is sorrier and more ready to hopefully try 
again than any girl I know. Perhaps you 
would like to know something about us, but 
I am not writing Kate's biography and my 
own, only telling you of one summer which 
we spent together. Sometimes in Deep- 
haven we were between six and seven years 
old, but at other times w^e have felt irreparably 
grown-up, and as if we carried a crushing 
weight of care and duty. In reality we are 
both twenty-four, and it is a pleasant age, 
though I think next 3'ear is sure to be pleas- 
anter, for we do not mind growing older, 
since we have lost nothing that we mourn 
about, and are gaining so much. I shall be 
glad if you learn to know Kate a little in my 
stories. It is not that I am fond of her and 



48 DEEPHAVEN 

endow her with imagined virtues and graces ; 
no one can fail to see how unaffected she is, 
or not notice her thoughtfulness and gen- 
erosity and her delightful fun, which never 
has a trace of coarseness or silliness. It was 
very pleasant having her for one's companion 
in such a place as Deephaven, for she has 
an unusual power of winning people's confi- 
dence, and of knowing with surest instinct 
how to meet them on their own ground. It 
is the girl's being so genuinely sympathetic 
and interested which makes every one ready 
to talk to her and be friends with her ; just 
as the sunshine makes it easy for flowers to 
grow which the chilly winds hinder. She is 
not polite for the sake of seeming polite, but 
polite for the sake of being kind, and there 
is not a particle of what Hugh Miller justly 
calls the insolence of condescension about 
her ; she is not brilliantly talented, yet she 
does everything in a charming fashion of her 
own ; she is not profoundly learned, yet she 
knows much of which many wise people are 
ignorant, and while she is a patient scholar 
in both little things and great, she is no less 
a teacher to all her friends, — dear Kate 
Lancaster ! 

We found that we were considered Miss 
Brandon's representatives in Deephaven so- 



MY LADY BRANDON 49 

ciety, and this was no slight responsibility, 
as she had received much honor and respect. 
We heard again and again what a loss she 
had been to the town, and we tried that sum- 
mer to do nothing to lessen the family reputa- 
tion, and to give pleasure as well as take it, 
though we were singularly persistent in our 
pursuit of a good time, I grew much inter- 
ested in what I heard of Miss Brandon, and 
it seems to me that it is a great privilege to 
have an elderly person in one's neighborhood, 
in town or country, who is proud, and con- 
servative, and who lives in stately fashion ; 
who is intolerant of sham and of useless 
novelties, and clings to the old ways of living 
and behaving as if they were part of her 
religion. There is something immensely re- 
spectable about such gentlewomen of the 
old school. They ignore all bustle and flashi- 
ness, and the conceit of the younger people, 
who act as if at last it had been time for them 
to appear and manage this world as it ought 
to have been managed before. Their posi- 
tion in modern society is much like that of 
the King's Chapel in its busy street in Bos- 
ton ; they stand for something assured and 
permanent. It perhaps might not have been 
easy to approach Miss Brandon, but it would 
have been impossible not to pay her great 



50 DEEPIiAVEN 

deference ; it is a pleasure to think that she 
must have found this world a most polite 
world, and have had the highest opinion of 
its good manners. Noblesse oblige : that is 
true in more ways than one ! 

I cannot help wondering if those of us who 
will be left by and by to represent our own 
generation will seem to have such superior 
elegance of behavior; if we shall receive so 
much respect and be so much valued. It is 
hard to imagine it. We know that the world 
gains new refinements and a better culture ; 
but to us there never will be such imposing 
ladies and gentlemen as those who belong to 
the old school. 

The morning after we reached Deephaven 
we were busy upstairs, and there was a de- 
termined blow at the knocker of the front 
door. I went down to see who was there, 
and had the pleasure of receiving our first 
caller. She was a prim little old woman who 
looked pleased and expectant, who wore a 
neat cap and front, and whose eyes were as 
bright as black beads. She wore no bonnet, 
and had thrown a little three-cornered shawl, 
with palm-leaf figures, over her shoulders ; 
and it was evident that she was a near neigh- 
bor. She was very short and straight and 
thin, and so quick that she darted like a 



MY LADY BRANDON 51 

pickerel when she moved about. It occurred 
to me at once that she was a very capable 
person, and had ** faculty," and, dear me, how 
fast she talked ! She hesitated a moment 
when she saw me, and dropped a fragment 
of a courtesy. "Miss Lanc'ster .? " said she, 
doubtfully. 

"No," said I, ''I'm Miss Denis. Miss 
Lancaster is at home, though : come in, won't 
you ? ' ' 

"O Mrs. Patton ! " said Kate, who came 
down just then. " How very kind of you to 
come over so soon ! I should have gone to 
see you to-day. I was asking Mrs. Kew last 
night if you were here." 

"Land o' compassion!" said Mrs. Pat- 
ton, as she shook Kate's hand delightedly. 
" Where 'd ye s'pose I 'd be, dear ? I ain't 
like to move away from Deephaven now, 
after I 've held by the place so long ; I 've got 
as many roots as the big ellum. Well, I 
should know you were a Brandon, no matter 
where I see you. You Ve got a real Brandon 
look ; tall and straight, ain't you ? It 's four 
or five years since I saw you, except once at 
church, and once you went by, down to the 
shore, I s'pose. It was a windy day in the 
spring of the year." 

" I remember it very well," said Kate. 



52 DEEPHAVEN 

" Those were both visits of only a clay or two, 
and I was here at Aunt Katharine's funeral, 
and went away that same evening. Do you 
remember once I was here in the summer for 
a longer visit, five or six years ago, and I 
helped you pick currants in the garden ? You 
had a very old mug." 

" Now, who ever would ha' thought o' your 
rec'lecting that .?" said Mrs. Patton. " Yes. I 
had that mug because it was handy to carry 
about among the bushes, and then I 'd empt' 
it into the basket as fast as I got it full. 
Your aunt always told me to pick all I 
wanted ; she could n't use 'em, but they used 
to make sights o' currant wine in old times. 
I s'pose that mug would be considerable of 
a curiosity to anybody that was n't used to 
seeing it round. My grand'ther Joseph Tog- 
gerson — my mother was a Toggerson — 
picked it up on the long sands in a wad of 
sea-weed : strange it was n't broke, but it 's 
tough; I 've dropped it on the floor, many's 
the time, and it ain't even chipped. There 's 
some Dutch reading on it, and it 's marked 
1732. Now I shouldn't ha' thought you'd 
remembered that old mug, I declare. Your 
aunt, she had a monstrous sight of chiny. 
She's told me where 'most all of it come 
from, but I expect I 've forgot. My memory 



MY LADY BRANDON 



53 



fails me a good deal by spells. If you had n't 
come down, I suppose your mother would 
have had the chiny packed up this spring, — 




]\Irs. Patton ( Tlie II 'idoiu Jim) 

what she did n't take with her after your aunt 
died. S'pose she has n't made up her mind 
what to do with the house ? " 



54 DEEPHAVEN 

" No," said Kate ; "she wishes she could : 
it is a great puzzle to us." 

" I hope you will find it in middling order," 
said Mrs. Patton, humbly. "Me and Mis' 
Dockum have done the best we knew, — 
opened the windows and let in the air, and 
tried to keep it from getting damp. I fixed 
all the woolens with fresh camphire and to- 
bacco, the last o' the winter; you have to be 
dreadful careful in one o' these old houses, 
'less everything gets creaking with moths in 
no time. Miss Katharine, how she did hate 
the sight of a moth-miller! There's some- 
thing I '11 speak about before I forget it : the 
mice have eat the backs of a pile o' old books 
that's stored away in the west chamber clo- 
set next to Miss Katharine's room, and I set 
a trap there, but it was older 'n the ten com- 
mandments, that trap was, and the spring 's 
rusty. I guess you'd better get some new 
ones and set round in different places, 'less 
the mice '11 pester you. There ain't been no 
chance for 'em to get much of a living 'long 
through the winter, but they'll be sure to 
come back quick as they find there 's likely 
to be good board. I see your aunt's cat set- 
ting out on the front steps. She never was 
no great of a mouser, but it went to my heart 
to see how pleased she looked ! Come right 



MY LADY BRANDON 55 

back, did n't she ? How they do hold to their 
old haunts ! " 

"Was that Miss Brandon's cat?" I asked, 
with great interest. '' She has been up stairs 
with us, but I supposed she belonged to some 
neighbor, and had strayed in. She behaved 
as if she felt at home, poor old pussy ! " 

"We must keep her here," said Kate. 

''Mis' Dockum took her after your mother 
went off, and Miss Katharine's maids," said 
Mrs. Patton ; "but she told me that it was a 
long spell before she seemed to feel con- 
tented. She used to set on the steps and 
mew by the hour together, and try to get in, 
to first one door and then another. I used 
to think how bad Miss Katharine would feel ; 
she set a great deal by a cat, and she took 
notice of this as long as she did of anything. 
Her mind failed her, you know. Great loss 
to Deephaven, she was. Proud woman, and 
some folks were scared of her ; but I always 
got along with her, and I would n't ask for no 
kinder friend nor neighbor. I 've had my 
troubles, and I 've seen the day I was suffer- 
ing poor, and I could n't have brought myself 
to ask town help nohow, but I wish ye 'd ha' 
beared her scold me when she found it out; 
and she come marching right into my kitchen 
door one morning, like a grenadier, and says 



56 DEEPHAVEN 

she, ' Why did n't you send and tell me how 
sick and poor you are?' says she. And she 
said she 'd ha' been so glad to help me all 
along, but she thought I had means, — every- 
body did ; and I see the tears in her eyes, 
but she was scolding me and speaking as if 
she was dreadful provoked. She made me 
comfortable herself, and she sent over one o' 
her maids to see to me, and got the doctor, 
and a load o' stuff come up from the store, 
so I didn't have to buy anything for a good 
many weeks. I got better and so 's to work, 
but she never 'd let me say nothing about it. 
I had a good deal o' trouble, and I thought 
I *d lost my health, but I had n't, and that 
was thirty or forty years ago. There never 
was nothing going on at the great house that 
she did n't have me over, sewing or cleaning 
or company ; and I got so that I knew how 
she liked to have things done. I felt as if it 
was my own sister, though I never had one, 
when I was going over to help lay her out. 
She used to talk as free to me as she would 
to Miss Lorimer or Miss Carew. I s'pose ye 
ain't seen nothing o' them yet ? She was a 
good Christian woman, Miss Katharine was. 
* The memory of the just is blessed ; ' that 's 
what Mr. Lorimer said in his sermon the 
Sunday after she died, and there was n't a 



MY LADY BRANDON 57 

blood-relation there to hear it. I declare it 
looked pitiful to see that pew empty that 
ought to ha' been the mourners' pew. Your 
mother, Mis' Lancaster, had to go home 
Saturday, your father was going away sud- 
den to Washington, I 've understood, and she 
come back- again the first of the week. There ! 
it didn't make no sort o' difference, p'r'aps 
nobody thought of it but me. There had n't 
been anybody in the pew more than a couple 
o' times since she used to sit there herself, 
regular as Sunday come." And Mrs. Patton 
looked for a minute as if she were going 
to cry, but changed her mind upon second 
thought. 

*'Your mother gave me most of Miss 
Katharine's clothes ; this cap belonged to her, 
that I 've got on now ; it 's 'most wore out, 
but it does for mornings." 

"Oh," said Kate, *'I have two new ones for 
you in one of my trunks ! Mamma meant to 
choose them herself, but she had not time, 
and so she told me, and I think I found the 
kind she thought you would like." 

"Now I'm sure!" said Mrs. Patton, "if 
that ain't kind ; you don't tell me that Mis' 
Lancaster thought of me just as she was going 
off to sea.'* I shall set everything by them 
caps, and I 'm much obliged to you too. Miss 



58 DKKPHAVEN 

Kate. I was just going to speak of that 
time you were here and saw the mug ; you 
trimmed a cap for Miss Katharine to give me, 
real Boston style. I guess that box of cap- 
fixings is up on the top shelf of Miss Katha- 
rine's closet now, to the left hand," said Mrs. 
Patton, with wistful certainty. " She used 
to make her every-day caps herself, and she 
had some beautiful materials laid away that 
she never used. Some folks has laughed at 
me for being so particular 'bout wearing caps 
except for best, but I don't know 's it 's pre- 
suming beyond my station, and somehow I 
feel more respect for myself when I have a 
good cap on. I can't get over your mother's 
rec'lecting about me ; and she sent me a hand- 
some present o' money this spring for looking 
after the house. I never should have asked 
for a cent ; it 's a pleasure to me to keep an 
eye on it, out o' respect to your aunt. I was 
so pleased when I heard you were coming 
long o' your friend. I like to see the old 
place open ; it was about as bad as having no 
meeting. I miss seeing the lights, and your 
aunt was a great hand for lighting up bright ; 
the big hall lantern was lit every night, and 
she put it out when she went upstairs. She 
liked to go round same 's if it was day. You 
see I forget all the time she was sick, and 



MY LADY BRANDON 59 

go back to the days when she was well and 
about the house. When her mind was fail- 
ing her, and she was upstairs in her room, 
her eyesight seemed to be lost part of the 
time, and sometimes she 'd tell us to get the 
lamp and a couple o' candles in the middle 
o' the day, and then she 'd be as satisfied ! 
But she used to take a notion to set in the 
dark, some nights, and think, I s'pose. I 
should have forty fits, if I undertook it. 
That was a good while ago ; and do you re- 
c'lect how she used to play the piano ? She 
used to be a great hand to play when she was 
young." 

" Indeed, I remember it," said Kate, who 
told me afterward how her aunt used to sit 
at the piano in the twilight and play to her- 
self. *' She was formerly a skillful musi- 
cian," said my friend, "though one would 
not have imagined she cared for music. 
"When I was a child she used to play in com- 
pany of an evening, and once when I was 
here one of her old friends asked for a tune, 
and she laughingly said that her day was 
over and her fingers were stiff ; though I be- 
lieve she might have played as well as ever 
then, if she had cared to try. But once in a 
while, when she had been quiet all day and 
rather sad, — I am ashamed that I used to 



6o DEEPHAVEN 

think she was cross, — she would open the 
piano and sit there until late, while I used to 
be enchanted by her memories of dancing- 
tunes, and old psalms, and marches, and 
songs. There was one tune which I am sure 
had a history: there was a sweet, wild ca- 
dence in it, and she would come back to it 
again and again, always going through with 
it in the same measured way. I have re- 
membered so many things about my aunt 
since I have been hei^," said Kate, *' which I 
hardly noticed and did not understand when 
they happened. I was afraid of her when I 
was a Httle girl, but I think if I had grown 
up sooner, I should have enjoyed her heart- 
ily. It never used to occur to me that she 
had a spark of tenderness or of sentiment, 
until just before she was ill, but I have been 
growing more fond of her ever since. I 
might have given her a great deal more pleas- 
ure. It was not long after I was through 
school that she became so feeble, and of 
course she liked best having mamma come 
to see her ; one of us had to be at home. I 
have thought lately how careful one ought to 
be, to be kind and thoughtful to one's old 
friends. It is so soon too late to be good 
to them, and then one is always so sorry." 
I must tell you more of Mrs. Patton ; of 



MY LADY BRANDON 63 

course, it was not long before we returned 
her visit, and we were much entertained ; we 
always liked to see our friends in their own 
houses. Her house was a little way down 
the road, unpainted and gambrel-roofed, but 
so low that the old lilac-bushes which clus- 
tered round it were as tall as the eaves. 
The Widow Jim (as nearly every one called 
her in distinction to the Widow Jack Patton, 
who was a tailoress and lived at the other 
end of the town) was a very useful person. 
I suppose there must be her counterpart in 
all old New England villages. She sewed, 
and made elaborate rugs, and she had a de- 
cided talent for making carpets, — if there 
were one to be made, which must have hap- 
pened seldom. But there were a great many 
to be turned and made over in Deephaven, 
and she went to the Carews' and Lorimers' 
at house-cleaning time or in seasons of great 
festivity. She had no equal in sickness, and 
knew how to brew every old-fashioned dose 
and to make every variety of herb-tea, and 
when her nursing was put to an end by her 
patient's death, she was commander-in-chief 
at the funeral, and stood near the doorway 
to direct the mournins^ friends to their seats ; 
and I have no reason to doubt that she some- 
times even had the immense responsibility of 



64 DEEPHAVEN 

making out the order of the procession, since 
she had all genealogy and relationship at her 
tongue's end. It was an awful thing in 
Deephaven, we found, if the precedence was 
wrongly assigned, and once we chanced to 
hear some bitter remarks because the cousins 
of the departed wife had been placed after 
the husband's relatives, — *' the blood-rela- 
tions ridin' behind them that was only kin 
by marriage ! I don't wonder they felt 
hurt ! " said the person who spoke ; a most 
unselfish and unassuming soul, ordinarily. 

Mrs. Patton knew everybody's secrets, but 
she told them judiciously, if at all. She 
chattered all day to you, as a sparrow twit- 
ters, and you did not tire of her ; and Kate and 
I were nevermore agreeably entertained than 
when she told us of old times and of Kate's 
ancestors and their contemporaries ; for her 
memory was wonderful, and she had either 
seen everything that had happened in Deep- 
haven for a long time, or had received the 
particulars from reliable witnesses. She had 
known much trouble ; her husband had been 
but small satisfaction to her, and it was not 
to be wondered at if she looked upon all pro- 
posed marriages with compassion. She was 
always early at church, and she wore the 
same bonnet that she had worn when Kate 



MY LADY BRANDON 65 

was a child ; it was such a well-preserved, 
proper, black straw bonnet, with discreet 
bows of ribbon, and a useful lace veil to pro- 
tect it from the weather. 

She showed us into the best room the first 
time we went to see her. It was the plain- 
est little room, and very dull, and there was 
an exact sufficiency about its furnishings. 
Yet there was a certain dignity about it ; it 
was unmistakably a best room, and not a 
place where one might make a litter or carry 
one's every-day work. You felt at once 
that somebody valued the prim old-fashioned 
chairs, and the two half-moon tables, and the 
thin carpet, which must have needed anxious 
stretching every spring to make it come to 
the edge of the floor. There were some 
mourning-pieces by way of decoration, in- 
scribed with the names of Mrs. Patton's de- 
parted friends, — two worked in crewel to the 
memory of her father and mother, and two 
paper memorials, with the woman weeping 
under a willow at the side of a monument. 
They were all brown with age; and there 
was a sampler beside, worked by ''Judith 
Beckett, aged ten," and all five were framed 
in slender black frames and hung very high 
on the walls. There was a rocking-chair 
which looked as if it felt t^o grand for use, 



66 di:ki'iia\kn 

and considered itself imposing. It tilted far 
back on its rockers, and was bent forward at 
the top to make one's head uncomfortable. 
It need not have troubled itself ; nobody 
would ever wish to sit there. It was such a 
big rocking-chair, and Mrs. Patton was proud 
of it ; always generously urging her guests 
to enjoy its comfort, which was imaginary 
with her, as she was so short that she could 
hardly have climbed into it without assist- 
ance, and then would have found herself off 
soundings, as the sailors say. 

Mrs, Patton was a little ceremonious at 
first, but soon recovered herself and told us 
a great deal which we were glad to hear. I 
asked her once if she had not always lived at 
Deephaven. *' Here and beyond East Par- 
ish," said she. *' Mr. Patton, — that was my 
husband, — he owned a good farm there 
when I married him, but I come back here 
again after he died ; place was all mortgaged ; 
I never got a cent, and I was poorer than 
when I started. I worked harder 'n ever I 
did before or since to keep things together, 
but 't was n't any kind o' use. Your mother 
knows all about it, Miss Kate," — as if we 
might not be willing to believe it on her 
authority. " I come back here a widow and 
destitute, and I tell you the world looked 



MY LADY BRANDON 67 

fair to me when I left this house first to go 
over there. Don't you run no risks, you 're 
better off as you be, dears. But land sakes 
alive, 'he' did n't mean no hurt! and he set 
everything by me when he was himself. I 
don't make no scruples of speaking about 
it, everybody knows how it was, but I did 
go through with everything. I never knew 
what the day would bring forth," said the 
widow, as if this were the first time she had 
a chance to tell her sorrows to a sympa- 
thizing audience. She did not seem to 
mind talking about the troubles of her mar- 
ried life any more than a soldier minds tell- 
ing the story of his campaigns, and dwells 
with pride on the worst battle of all. 

Her favorite subject always was Miss 
Brandon, and after a pause she said that she 
hoped we were finding everything right in 
the house ; she had meant to take up the 
carpet in the best spare room, but it did n't 
seem to need it ; it was taken up the year 
before, and the room had not been used 
since ; there was not a mite of dust under it 
last time. And Kate assured her, with an 
appearance of great wisdom, that she did not 
think it could be necessary at all. 

" I come home and had a good cry yester- 
day after I was over to see you," said Mrs, 



6S DEEPIIAVEN 

Patton, and I could not help wondering if she 
really could cry, for she looked so perfectly 
dried up, so dry that she might rustic in the 
wind. ** Your aunt had been failin' so long 
that just after she died it was a relief, but 
I 've got so 's to forget all about that, and I 
miss her as she used to be ; it seemed as if 
you had stepped into her place, and you look 
some as she used to when she was young." 

"You must miss her," said Kate, *'and I 
know how much she used to depend upon 
you. You were very kind to her." 

" I watched with her the night she died," 
said the widow, with mournful satisfaction. 
" I have lived neighbor to her all my life ex- 
cept the thirteen years I was married, and 
there was n't a week I was n't over to the great 
house except I was off to a distance taking 
care of the sick. When she got to be feeble 
she always wanted me to 'tend to the clean- 
ing and to see to putting the canopies and 
curtains on the bedsteads, and she would n't 
trust nobody but me to handle some of the 
best china. I used to say, 'Miss Katharine, 
why don't you have some young folks come 
and stop with you ? There 's Mis' Lancas- 
ter's daughter a growing up ' ; but she did n't 
seem to care for nobody but your mother. 
You would n't believe what a hand she used 







■{:r. 




m 



MY LADY BRANDON 71 

to be for company in her younger days. Sur- 
prisin' how folks alters ! When I first rec'lect 
her much she was as straight as an arrow, 
and she used to go to Boston visiting and 
come home w^ith the top of the fashion. She 
always did dress elegant. It used to be gay 
here, and she was always going down to the 
Lorimers* or the Carews' to tea, and they 
coming here. Her sister was married ; she 
was a good deal older ; but some of her bro- 
thers were at home. There was your grand- 
father and Mr. Henry. I don't think she 
ever got it over, — his disappearing so. 
There were lots of folks then that 's dead 
and gone, and they used to have their card- 
parties, and old Cap'n Manning — he's dead 
and gone — used to have 'em all to play whist 
every fortnight, sometimes three or four 
tables, and they always had cake and wine 
handed round, or the cap'n made some punch, 
like 's not, with oranges in it, and lemons ; Jie 
knew how ! He was a bachelor to the end 
of his days, the old cap'n was, but he used 
to entertain real handsome. I rec'lect one 
night they was a playin' after the wine was 
brought in, and he upset his glass all over 
Miss Martha Lorimer's invisible-green wa- 
tered silk, and spoilt the better part of two 
breadths. She sent right over for me early 



72 DEEPHAVEN 

the next morning to see if I knew of anything 
to take out the spots, but I didn't, though I 
can take grease out o' most any material 
We tried clear alcohol, and saleratus-water, 
and hartshorn, and pouring water through, 
and heating of it, and when we got through 
it was worse than when we started. She felt 
dreadful bad about it, and at last she says, 
' Judith, we won't work over it any more, but 
if you'll give me a day some time or 'nother, 
we '11 rip it up and make a quilt of it.' I see 
that quilt last time I was in Miss Rebecca's 
north chamber. Miss INIartha w^as her aunt ; 
you never saw her ; she was dead and gone 
before your day. It was a silk old Cap'n 
Peter Lorimer, her brother, who left 'em his 
money, brought home from sea, and she had 
worn it for best and second best eleven year. 
It looked as good as new, and she never 
would have ripped it up if she could have 
matched it. I said it seemed to be a shame, 
but it was a curi's figure. Cap'n Manning 
fetched her one to pay for it the next time he 
went to Boston. She did n't want to take it, 
but he wouldn't take no for an answer ; he 
was freehanded, the cap'n was. I helped 'em 
make it 'long of Mary Ann Simms the dress- 
maker, — she's dead and gone too, — the 
time it was made. It was brown, and a 



MY LADY BRANDON 73 

beautiful-looking piece, but it wore shiny, 
and she made a double-gown of it before she 
died." 

Mrs. Patton brought Kate and me some 
delicious old-fashioned cake with much spice 
in it, and told us it was made by old Mrs. 
Chantrey Brandon's receipt which came from 
England, that it would keep a year, and she 
always kept a loaf by her, now that she could 
afford it ; she supposed we knew Miss Katha- 
rine had named her in her will long before 
she was sick. " It has put me beyond fear of 
want," said Mrs. Patton. ** I won't deny that 
I used to think it would go hard with me when 
I got so old I couldn't earn my living. You 
see I never laid up but a little, and it 's hard 
for a woman who comes of respectable folks 
to be dependent in her last days; but your 
aunt, Miss Kate, she thought of it too, and 
I 'm sure I 'm thankful to be so comfortable, 
and to stay in my house, which I could n't 
have done, like 's not. Miss Rebecca Lori- 
mer said to me after I got news of the will, 
'Why, Mis' Patton, you don't suppose your 
friends would ever have let you want ! ' And 
I says, 'My friends are kind, — the Lord 
bless 'em ! — but I feel better to be able to 
do for myself than to be beholden.' " 

After this long call we went down to the 



74 DEKPIIAVEN 

post-office, and coming home stopped for a 
while in the old burying-ground, which we 
had noticed the day before ; and we sat for 
the first time on the great stone in the wall, 
in the shade of a maple-tree, where we so 
often waited afterward for the stage to come 
with the mail, or rested on our way home 
from a walk. It was a comfortable perch ; 
we used sometimes to read our letters there, 
I remember. 

I must tell you a little about the Deep- 
haven burying-ground, for its interest was 
inexhaustible, and I do not know how much 
time we may have spent in reading the long 
epitaphs on the gravestones and trying to 
puzzle out the inscriptions, which were often 
so old and worn that we could only trace a 
letter here and there. It was a neglected 
corner of the world, and there were strag- 
gling sumachs and acacias scattered about 
the inclosure, while a row of fine old elms 
marked the boundary of two sides. The grass 
was long and tangled, and most of the stones 
leaned one way or the other, and some had 
fallen flat. There were a few handsome old 
family monuments clustered in one corner, 
among which the one that marked Miss Bran- 
don's grave looked so new and fresh that it 
seemed inappropriate. " It should have been 



MY LADY BRANDON 75 

dingy to begin with, like the rest," said Kate 
one day; ''but I think it will make itself 
look like its neighbors as soon as possible." 

There were many stones which were sacred 
to the memory of men who had been lost at 
sea, almost always giving the name of the 
departed ship, which was so kept in remem- 
brance ; and one felt as much interest in the 
ship Starlight, supposed to have foundered 
off the Cape of Good Hope, as in the poor 
fellow who had the ill luck to be one of her 
crew. There were dozens of such inscrip- 
tions ; and there were other stones perpetuat- 
ing the fame of Honourable gentlemen who 
had been members of His Majesty's Council, 
or surveyors of His Majesty's Woods, or 
King's Officers of Customs for the town of 
Deephaven. Some of the epitaphs were 
beautiful, showing that tenderness for the 
friends who had died, that lonsfinsf to do them 
justice, to fully acknowledge their virtues and 
dearness, which is so touching, and so unmis- 
takable even under the stiff, quaint expres- 
sions and formal words. We often used to 
notice names, and learn their history from 
the old people whom we knew, and in this 
way we heard many stories which we never 
shall forget. It is wonderful, the romance 
and tragedy and adventure which one may 



76 DEEPHAVEN 

find in a quiet old-fashioned country town ; 
though to heartily enjoy the every-day life 
one must care to study life and character, 
and must find pleasure in thought and ob- 
servation of simple things, and have an in- 
stinctive, delicious interest in what to other 
eyes is unflavored dullness. 

To go back to Mrs. Patton ; on our way 
home, after our first call upon her, we stopped 
to speak to ]\Irs. Dockum, w4io mentioned 
that she had seen us going in to the "Widow 
Jim's." 

" Willin' woman," said Mrs. Dockum, ''al- 
ways been respected; got an uncommon 
facility o' speech. I never saw such a hand 
to talk, but then she has something to say, 
which ain't the case with everybody. Good 
neighbor, does according to her means al- 
ways. Dreadful tough time of it with her 
husband, shif'less and drunk all his time. 
Noticed that dent in the side of her forehead, 
I s'pose ? That 's wdiere he liked to have 
killed her; slung a stone bottle at her." 

^^Whatf^' said Kate and I, very much 
shocked. 

" She don't like to have it inquired about ; 
but she and I were sitting up w^ith 'Manda 
Damer one night, and she gave me the par- 
ticulars. I knew he did it, for she had a fit 



. 



t/^ 







/ 



b 



^ 



t.O«V».fTfoodbv 



yj/rj-. Dochnn 



MY LADY BRANDON 79 

o' sickness afterward. Had sliced cucumbers 
for breakfast that morning ; he was very par- 
tial to them, and he wanted some vinegar. 
Happened to be two bottles in the cellar-way 
just alike, and one of 'em was vinegar and the 
other had sperrit in it at haying-time. He 
takes up the wrong one and pours on quick, 
and out come the hayseed and flies, and he 
give the bottle a sling, and it hit her there 
where you see the scar ; might put the end 
of your finger into the dent. He said he 
meant to break the bottle ag'in the door, but 
it went slantwise, sort of. I don' know, I 'm 
sure " (meditatively). " She said he was good- 
natured ; it was early in the morn in', and he 
had n't had time to get upset ; but he had a 
high temper naturally, and so much drink 
hadn't made it much better. She had good 
prospects when she married him. Six-foot- 
two and red cheeks and straight as a Noroway 
pine ; had a good property from his father, 
and his mother come of a good family, but 
he died in debt ; drank like a fish. Yes, 
'twas a shame, nice woman ; good consistent 
church-member ; always been respected ; use- 
ful amono: the sick." 




Deephaven Society 

IT was curious to notice, in this quaint 
little fishing-village by the sea, how 
clearly the gradations of society were de- 
fined. The place prided itself most upon 
having been long ago the residence of one 
Governor Chantrey, who was a rich ship- 
owner and East India merchant, and whose 
fame and magnificence were almost fabulous. 
It was a never-ceasing regret that his house 
should have burned down after he died, and 
there is no doubt that if it were still stand- 
ing it would rival any ruin of the Old World. 
The elderly people, though laying claim 
to no slight degree of present consequence, 
modestly ignored it, and spoke with pride of 



DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 8i 

the grand way in which life was carried on 
by their ancestors, the Deephaven families 
of old times. I think Kate and I were as- 
sured at least a hundred times that Governor 
Chantrey kept a valet, and his wife, Lady 
Chantrey, kept a lady's maid and a house- 
keeper, and that the governor had an uncle 
in England who was a lord ; and I believe 
this must have been why our friends felt so 
deep an interest in the affairs of the English 
nobility ; they no doubt felt themselves enti- 
tled to seats near the throne itself. There 
were formerly five families who kept their 
coaches in Deephaven ; there were balls at 
the governor's, and regal entertainments at 
other of the grand mansions ; there were 
twenty college men, young and old, in the 
Sunday congregation ; there is not a really 
distinguished person in the country who will 
not prove to have been directly or indirectly 
connected with Deephaven. We were shown 
the cellar of the Chantrey house, and the ter- 
races, and a few clumps of lilacs, and the 
grand rows of elms. There are still two of 
the governor's warehouses left, but his ruined 
wharves are fast disappearing, and are almost 
deserted, except by small barefooted boys 
who sit on their edges to fish for sea-perch 
when the tide comes in. There is an impos- 



82 DEEPHAVEN 

ing monument in the burying-ground to the 
great man and his amiable consort. I am 
sure that if there were any surviving rela- 
tives of the governor, they would receive in 
Deephaven far more deference than is con- 
sistent with the principles of a republican gov- 
ernment ; but the family became extinct long 
since, and I have heard, though it is not a 
subject that one may speak of lightly, that 
the sons were unworthy their noble descent 
and came to inglorious ends. 

There were still remaining a few repre- 
sentatives of the old families, who were 
treated with much reverence by the rest of 
the townspeople, although they were, like the 
conies of Scripture, a feeble folk. 

Deephaven is utterly out of fashion. It 
never recovered from the effects of the em- 
bargo of 1807, and a sand-bar has been 
steadily filling in the mouth of the harbor. 
Though the fishing gives what occupation 
there is for the inhabitants of the place, it is 
by no means sufficient to draw recruits from 
abroad. But nobody in Deephaven cares for 
excitement ; and if some one once in a while 
has the low taste to prefer a more active life, 
he is obliged to go elsewhere in search of it, 
and is spoken of afterward with kind pity. 
I well remember the Widow Moses said to 



DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 83 

me, in speaking of a certain misguided 
nephew of hers, " I never could see what 
could 'a' sot him out to leave so many privi- 
leges and go way off to Lynn, with all them 
children, too. Why, they lived here no more 
than a cable's length from the meetin'- 
house ! " 

There were two schooners owned in town, 
and 'Bijah Mauley and Jo Sands each owned 
a trawl. There were some schooners and 
a small brig slowly going to pieces by the 
wharves, and indeed Deephaven looked more 
or less out of repair. All along shore one 
might see dories and wherries and whale- 
boats, which had been left to die a lingering- 
death. There is something piteous to me in 
the sight of an old boat. If one I had used 
much and cared for were past its usefulness, 
I should say good-by to it, and have it towed 
out to sea and sunk ; it never should be left 
to fall to pieces above high-water mark. 

Even the fishermen felt a satisfaction, and 
seemed to realize their privilege, in being 
residents of Deephaven ; but among the no- 
bility and gentry there lingered a fierce pride 
in their family and town records, and a hardly 
concealed contempt and pity for people who 
were obliged to live in other parts of the 
world. There were acknowled2;ed to be a 



84 DEEPITAVEN 

few disadvantages, such as living nearly a 
dozen miles from the railway ; but, as Miss 
Honora Carew said, the tone of Deephaven 
society had always been very high, and it was 
very nice that there had never been any man- 
ufacturing element introduced. She could 
not feel too grateful, herself, that there was 
no disagreeable foreign population. 

*' But," said Kate one day, '' would n't you 
like to have some pleasant new people 
brought into town .? " 

** Certainly, my dear," said Miss Honora, 
rather doubtfully ; " I have always been 
public-spirited ; but then, we always have 
guests in summer, and I am growing old. I 
should not care to enlarge my acquaintance 
to any great extent." Miss Honora and 
Mrs. Dent had lived gay lives in their 
younger days, and were interested and con- 
nected with the outside world more than any 
of our Deephaven friends ; but they were 
quite contented to stay in their own house, 
with their books and letters and knitting, 
and they carefully read Littell, the Specta- 
tor, and "the new magazine," as they called 
the Atlantic. 

The Carews were very intimate with the 
minister and his sister, and there were one 
or two others who belonged to this set. 



DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 85 

There was Mr. Joshua Dorsey, who wore his 
hair in a queue, was very deaf, and carried a 
ponderous cane which had belonged to his 
venerated father, — a much taller man than 
he. He was polite to Kate and me, but we 
never knew him much. He went to play 
whist with the Carews every Monday even- 
ing, and commonly went out fishing once a 
week. He had begun the practice of law, 
but he had lost his hearing, and at the same 
time his lady-love had inconsiderately fallen 
in love with somebody else ; after which he 
retired from active business life. He had a 
fine library, which he invited us once to ex- 
amine. He had many new books, but they 
looked shockingly overdressed, in their fresher 
bindings, beside the old brown volumes of 
essays and sermons, and lighter works in 
many-volume editions. 

A prominent link in society was Widow 
Tully, who had been the much-respected 
housekeeper of old Captain Manning for 
forty years. When he died he left her the 
use of his house and family pew, besides an 
annuity. The existence of Mr. Tully seemed 
to be a myth. During the first of his 
widow's residence in town she had been 
much affected when obliged to speak of him, 
and always represented herself as having 



86 



DKEPHAVEN 



seen better days and as being highly con- 
nected. But she was apt to be ungram- 
matical when excited, and there was a whis- 
pered tradition that she used to keep a toll- 
bridge in a town in Connecticut ; though the 
mystery of her previous state of existence 
will probably never be 
solved. She wore 
mourning for the cap- 
tain which would have 
befitted his widow, and 
patronized the towns- 
people conspicuously, 
while she herself was 
treated with much con- 
descension by the Ca- 
rews and Lorimers. 
She occupied, on the 
whole, much the same 
position that Mrs. 
Betty Barker did in 
Cranford. And, indeed, 
Kate and I were often 
reminded of that esti- 
mable town. We heard that Kate's aunt, 
]\Iiss Brandon, had never been appreciative 
of Mrs. Tully's merits, and that since her 
death the others had received Mrs. Tully 
into their society rather more. 




Wicio7v Tully 



DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 87 

It seemed as if all the clocks in Deep- 
haven, and all the people with them, had 
stopped years ago, and the people had been 
doing over and over what they had been 
busy about during the last week of their 
unambitious progress. Their clothes had 
lasted wonderfully well, and they had no 
need to earn money when there was so little 
chance to spend it ; indeed, there were sev- 
eral families who seemed to have no more 
visible means of support than a balloon. 
There were no young people whom we knew, 
though a number used to come to church on 
Sunday from the inland farms, or " the coun- 
try," as we learned to say. There were chil- 
dren among the fishermen's families at the 
shore, but a few years will see Deephaven 
possessed by two classes instead of the time- 
honored three. 

As for our first Sunday at church, it must 
be in vain to ask you to imagine our delight 
when we heard the tuning of a bass-viol in 
the gallery just before service. We pressed 
each other's hands most tenderly, looked up 
at the singers' seats, and then trusted our- 
selves to look at each other. It was more 
than we had hoped for. There was also a 
violin and sometimes a flute, and a choir of 
men and women singers, though the con- 



88 DEEPHAVEN 

gregation were expected to join in the psalm- 
singing. The first hymn was 

" The Lord our God is full of might, 
The winds obey his will," 

to the tune of St. Ann's. It was all so 
delightfully old-fashioned; our pew was a 
square pew, and was by an open window 
looking seaward. We also had a view of the 
entire congregation ; and as we were some- 
what early, we watched the people come in, 
with great interest. The Deephaven aristo- 
cracy came with stately step up the aisle ; 
this was all the chance there was for display- 
ing their unquestioned dignity in public. 

Many of the people drove to church in 
wagons that were low and old and creaky, 
with worn buffalo-robes over the seat, and 
some hay tucked underneath for the sleepy, 
undecided old horse. Some of the younger 
farmers and their wives had high, shiny wag- 
ons, with tall horsewhips, — which they some- 
times brought into church, — and they drove 
up to the steps with a consciousness of being 
conspicuous and enviable. They had a bash- 
ful look when they came in, and for a few 
minutes after they took their seats they evi- 
dently felt that all eyes were fixed upon them ; 
but after a little while they were quite at 
their ease, and looked critically at the new 
arrivals. 



DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 89 

The old folks interested us most. ''Do 
you notice how many more old women there 
are than old men ? " whispered Kate to me. 
And we wondered if the husbands and bro- 
thers had been drowned, and if it must not 
be sad to look at the blue, sunshiny sea be- 
yond the marshes, if the far-away white sails 
reminded them of some ships that had never 
sailed home into Deephaven harbor, or of 
fishing-boats that had never come back to 
land. 

The girls and young men adorned them- 
selves in what they believed to be the latest 
fashion, but the elderly women were usually 
relics of old times in manner and dress. They 
wore to church thin, soft silk gowns that must 
have been brought from over the seas years 
upon years before, and wide collars fastened 
with mourning-pins holding a lock of hair. 
They had big black bonnets, some of them 
with stiff capes, such as Kate and I had not 
seen before since our childhood. They treas- 
ured large rusty lace veils of scraggly pattern, 
and wore sometimes, on pleasant Sundays, 
white China crape shawls with attenuated 
fringes ; and there were two or three of these 
shawls in the congregation which had been 
dyed black, and gave an aspect of meekness 
and general unworthiness to the aged wearer. 



90 DEEPIIAVKN 

they clung and drooped about the figure 
in such a hopeless way. We used to notice 
often the most interesting scarfs, without 
which no Deephaven woman considered her- 
self in full dress. Sometimes there were red 
India scarfs in spite of its being hot weather ; 
but our favorite ones were long strips of silk, 
embroidered along the edges and at the ends 
with dismal-colored floss in odd patterns. I 
think there must have been a fashion once, 
in Deephaven, of working these scarfs, and I 
should not be surprised to find that it was 
many years before the fashion of working 
>>amplers came about. Our friends always 
wore black mitts on warm Sundays, and many 
of them carried neat little bags of various 
designs on their arms, containing a precise- 
ly folded pocket-handkerchief, and a frugal 
lunch of caraway seeds or red and white pep- 
permints. I should like you to see, with your 
own eyes. Widow Ware and Miss Exper'ence 
Hull, two old sisters whose personal appear- 
ance we delighted in, and whom we saw 
feebly approaching down the street this first 
Sunday morning under the shadow of the two 
last members of an otherwise extinct race of 
parasols. 

There were two or three old men who sat 
near us. They were sailors, — there is some- 



DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 93 

thing unmistakable about a sailor, — and they 
had a curiously ancient, uncanny look, as if 
they might have belonged to the crew of the 
Mayflower, or even have cruised about with 
the Northmen in the times of Harald Har- 
faager and his comrades. They had been 
blown about by so many winter winds, so 
browned by summer suns, and wet by salt 
spray, that their hands and faces looked like 
leather, with a few deep folds instead of 
wrinkles. They had pale blue eyes, very keen 
and quick ; their hair looked like the fine 
seaweed which clings to the kelp-roots and 
mussel-shells in little locks. These friends 
of ours sat solemnly at the heads of their 
pews and looked unflinchingly at the min- 
ister, when they were not dozing, and they 
sang with voices like the howl of the wind, 
with an occasional deep note or two. 

Have you never seen faces that seemed 
old-fashioned ? Many of the people in Deep- 
haven church looked as if they must be — if 
not supernaturally old — exact copies of their 
remote ancestors. I wonder if it is not pos- 
sible that the features and expression may 
be almost perfectly reproduced. These faces 
were not modern American faces, but be- 
longed rather to the days of the early settle- 
ment of the country, the old colonial times. 



94 DEEPIIAVEN 

We often heard quaint words and expressions 
which we never had known anywhere else 
but in old books. There was a great deal of 
sea-lingo in use ; indeed, we learned a great 
deal ourselves, unconsciously, and used it 
afterwards to the great amusement of our 
friends ; but there were also many peculiar 
provincialisms, and among the people who 
lived on the lonely farms inland we often 
noticed words we had seen in Chaucer, and 
studied out at school in our English liter- 
ature class. Everything in Deephaven was 
more or less influenced by the sea ; the min- 
ister spoke oftenest of Peter and his fisher- 
men companions, and prayed most earnestly 
every Sunday morning for those who go 
down to the sea in ships. He made fre- 
quent allusions and drew numberless illus- 
trations of a similar kind for his sermons, 
and indeed I am in doubt whether, if the 
Bible had been written wholly in inland 
countries, it would have been much valued in 
Deephaven. 

The singing was very droll, for there was 
a majority of old voices, which had seen their 
best days long before, and the bass-viol was 
excessively noticeable, and apt to be a little 
ahead of the time the singers kept, while the 
violin lingered after. Somewhere on the 



DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 95 

other side of the church we heard an acute 
voice which rose high above all the rest of 
the congregation, sharp as a needle, and 
slightly cracked, with a limitless supply of 
breath. It rose and fell gallantly, and clung 
long to the high notes of Dundee. It was 
like the wail of the banshee, which sounds 
clear to the fated hearer above all other 
noises. We afterward became acquainted 
with the owner of this voice, and were sur- 
prised to find her a meek widow, who was 
like a thin black beetle in her pathetic 
cypress veil and big black bonnet. She 
looked as if she had forgotten who she was, 
and spoke with an apologetic whine ; but we 
heard she had a temper as high as her voice, 
and as much to be dreaded as the equinoctial 
gale. 

Near the church was the parsonage, where 
Mr. Lorimer lived, and the old Lorimer house 
not far beyond was occupied by Miss Rebecca 
Lorimer. Some stranger might ask the 
question why the minister and his sister did 
not live together, but you would have under- 
stood it at once after you had lived for a 
while in town. They were very fond of each 
other, and the minister dined with Miss 
Rebecca on Sundays, and she passed the day 
with him on Wednesdays, and they ruled 



96 DEEPIIAVEN 

their separate households with decision and 
dignity. I think Mr. Lorimer's house showed 
no signs of being without a mistress, any 
more than his sister's betrayed the want of 
a master's care and authority. 

The Carews were very kind friends of ours, 
and had been Miss Brandon's best friends. 
We heard that there had always been a cool- 
ness between Miss Brandon and Miss Lor- 
imer, and, that, though they exchanged visits 
and were always polite, there was a chill 
in the politeness, and one would never have 
suspected them of admiring each other at all. 
We had the whole history of the trouble, which 
dated back scores of years, from Miss Honora 
Carew ; but we always took pains to appear 
ignorant of the feud, and I think Miss 
Lorimer was satisfied that it was best not to 
refer to it, and to let bygones be bygones. 
It would not have been true Deephaven 
courtesy to prejudice Kate against her grand- 
aunt, and Miss Rebecca cherished her dis- 
like in silence, which gave us a most grand 
respect for her, since we knew she thought 
herself in the right ; though I think it never 
had come to an open quarrel between these 
majestic ladies. 

Miss Honora Carew and Mr. Dick Carew 
and their elder sister, Mrs. Dent, had a 



DEEPHAVEN SOCIETY 97 

charmingly sedate and quiet home in the old 
Carew house. Mrs. Dent was ill a great 
deal while we were there, but she must have 
been a very brilliant woman, and was not at 
all dull when we knew her. She had outlived 
her husband and her children, and she had, 
several years before our summer there, given 
up her own home, which was in the city, and 
had come back to Deephaven. Miss Honora 
— dear Miss Honora ! — had been one of the 
brightest, happiest girls, and had lost none 
of her brightness and happiness by grow- 
ing old. She had lost none of her fondness 
for society, though she was so contented 
in quiet Deephaven, and I think she enjoyed 
Kate's and my stories of our pleasures as 
much as we did hers of old times. We used 
to go to see her almost every day. " Mr. 
Dick," as they called their brother, had once 
been a merchant in the East Indies, and 
there were quantities of curiosities and most 
beautiful china which he had brought and 
sent home, which gave the house a character 
of its own. He had been very rich, and had 
lost some of his money, and afterward came 
home, and was still considered to possess 
princely wealth by his neighbors. He had a 
great fondness for reading and study, which 
had not been lost sight of during his business 



98 DEEPHAVEN 

life, and he spent most of his time in his 
Hbrary. He and Mr. Lorimer had their 
differences of opinion about certain points 
of theology, and this made them much fonder 
of each other's society, and gave them a great 
deal of pleasure ; for after every series of 
arguments, each was sure that he had van- 
quished the other, or there were alternate 
victories and defeats which made life vastly 
interesting and important. 

Miss Carew and Mrs. Dent had a great 
treasury of old brocades and laces and orna- 
ments, which they showed us one day, and 
told us stories of the wearers ; or if they 
were their own, there were always some rem- 
iniscences which they liked to talk over with 
each other and with us. I never shall forget 
the first evening we took tea with them ; it 
impressed us very much, and yet nothing 
wonderful happened. Tea was handed round 
by an old-fashioned maid, and afterward we 
sat talking in the twilight, looking out at 
the garden. It was such a delight to have 
tea served in this way. I wonder that the 
fashion has been almost forgotten. Kate 
and I took much pleasure in choosing our 
tea-poys ; hers had a mandarin parading on 
the top, and mine a flight of birds and a 
pagoda ; and we often used them afterward, 




iMr. Duk and Mr, Lonmer 



DEEPHAVEX SOCIETY loi 

for Miss Honora asked us to come to tea 
whenever we liked. *'A stupid, common 
country town," some one dared to call Deep- 
haven in a letter once, and how bitterly we 
resented it ! That was a house where one 
might always find the best society and the 
most charming manners and good-breeding; 
and if I were asked to tell you what I mean 
by the word "lady," I should ask you to go, 
if it were possible, to call upon Miss Honora 
Carew. 

After a while the elder sister said, " My 
dears, we always have prayers at nine, for I 
have to go up stairs early nowadays." And 
then the servants came in, and she read sol- 
emnly the King of glory psalm, which I have 
always liked best ; and then Mr. Dick read 
the church prayers, the form of prayer to be 
used in families. We stayed later to talk 
with Miss Honora after we had said good 
night to ]\Irs. Dent. And we told each other, 
as we went home in the moonlight down the 
quiet street, how much we had enjoyed the 
evening ; for somehow the house and the 
people had nothing to do with the present, 
or the hurry of modern life. I have never 
heard that psalm since without its bringing 
back that summer night in Deephaven, the 
beautiful quaint old room, — and Kate and I 



I02 DEEPHAVEN 

feeling so young and worldly by contrast, — 
the flickering, shaded light of the candles, 
the old book, and the voices that said Amen. 
There were several other fine old houses 
in Deephaven beside this and the Brandon 
house, though that was rather the most im- 
posing. There were two or three which had 
not been kept in repair, and were deserted, 
and of course they were said to be haunted, 
and we were told of their ghosts, and why 
they walked, and when. From some of the 
local superstitions Kate and I have vainly 
endeavored ever since to shake ourselves 
free. There was a most heathenish fear of 
doing certain things on Friday, and there 
were countless signs in which we still have 
confidence. When the moon is very bright 
and other people grow sentimental, we only 
remember that it is a fine night to catch 
hake. 




The Captains 



I SHOULD consider my account of Deep- 
haven society incomplete if I did not tell 
you something of the ancient mariners, who 
may be found every pleasant morning sun- 
ning themselves like turtles on one of the 
wharves. Sometimes there was a consider- 
able group of them ; but the less constant 
members of the club were older than the 
rest, and the epidemics of rheumatism in 
town were sadly frequent. We found that 
it was etiquette to call them each captain, 
but I think some of the Deephaven men 
took the title by brevet upon arriving at a 
proper age. 

They sat close together because so many 



104 DKEPIIAVEN 

of them were deaf ; and when we were lucky 
enough to overhear the conversation, it 
seemed to concern their adventures at sea, 
or the freight carried out by the Sea Duck, 
the Ocean Rover, or some other Deephaven 
ship, — the particulars of the voyage and its 
disasters and successes being as familiar as 
the wanderings of the children of Israel to 
an old parson. There were sometimes vio- 
lent altercations when the captains differed 
as to the tonnage of some craft that had 
been a prey to the winds and waves, dry-rot, 
or barnacles fifty years before. The old fel- 
lows puffed away at little black pipes with 
short stems, and otherwise consumed tobacco 
in fabulous quantities. It is needless to say 
that they gave an immense deal of attention 
to the weather. We used to wish we could 
join this agreeable company ; but we found 
that the appearance of an outsider caused a 
disapproving silence, and that the meeting 
was evidently not to be interfered with. Once 
we were impertinent enough to hide our- 
selves for a while just round the corner of 
the warehouse ; but we were afraid or ashamed 
to try it again, though the conversation was 
inconceivably edifying. Captain Isaac Horn, 
the eldest and wisest of all, was discoursing 
upon some cloth he had purchased once in 



THE CAPTAINS 105 

Bristol, which the shopkeeper delayed send- 
ing until just as they were ready to weigh 
anchor. 

"I happened to take a look at that cloth," 
said the captain, in a loud droning voice, 
*'and as quick as I got sight of it, I spoke 
onpleasant of that swindling English fellow, 
and the crew, they stood back. I was dread- 
ful high-tempered in them days, mind ye, 
and I had the gig manned. We was out in 
the stream, just ready to sail. 'T was no use 
waiting any longer for the wind to change, 
and we was going north-about. I went 
ashore, and when I walks into his shop ye 
never see a creatur' so wilted. Ye see the 
miser'ble sculpin thought I 'd never stop to 
open the goods, an' it was a chance I did, 
mind ye! *Lor,' says he, grinning and turn- 
ing the color of a biled lobster, ' I s'posed 
ye were a-standing out to sea by this time.' 
'No,' says I, 'and I 've got my men out here 
on the quay a-landing that cloth o' yourn ; 
and if you don't send just what I bought and 
paid for down there to go back in the gig 
within fifteen minutes, I '11 take ye by the 
collar and drop ye into the dock.' I was 
twice the size of him, mind ye, and master 
strong. ' Don't ye like it ? ' says he, edging 
round ; * I'll change it for ye, then.' Ter'ble 



io6 DEEPHAVEN 

perlite he was. * Like it ? ' says I, ' it looks 
as if it were built of dog's hair and divil's 
wool, kicked together by spiders ; and it 's 
coarser than Irish frieze ; three threads to an 
arnifiil' says I." 

This w^as evidently one of the captain's 
favorite stories, for we heard an approving 
grumble from the audience. 

In the course of a walk inland we made a 
new acquaintance, Captain Lant, whom we 
had noticed at church, and who sometimes 
joined the company on the wharf. We had 
been walking through the woods, and coming 
out to his fields we went on to the house for 
some water. There was no one at home 
but the captain, who told us cheerfully that 
he should be pleased to serve us, though his 
women-folks had gone off to a funeral, the 
other side of the P'int. He brought out a 
pitcherful of milk ; and after we had drunk 
some, we all sat down together in the shade. 
The captain brought an old flag-bottomed 
chair from the woodhouse, and sat down fac- 
ing Kate and me, with an air of certainty 
that he was going to hear something new and 
make some desirable new acquaintances, and 
also that he could tell something it would be 
worth our while to hear. He looked more 
and more like a well-to-do old English spar- 
row, and chippercd faster and faster. 



THE CAPTAINS 107 

" Queer ye should know I 'm a sailor so 
quick ; why, I 've been a-farming it this 
twenty years ; have to go down to the shore 
and take a day's fishing every hand's turn, 
though, to keep the old hulk clear of barna- 
cles. There ! I do wish I lived nigher the 
shore, where I could see the folks I know, 
and talk about what 's been a-goin' on. You 
don't know anything about it, you don't ; but 
it's tryin' to a man to be called 'old Cap'n 
Lant,' and, so to speak, be forgot when 
there 's anything stirring, and be called gran- 
'ther by clumsy creatur's goin' on fifty and 
sixty, who can't do no more work to-day than 
I can ; an' then the women-folks keeps a-tel- 
lin' me to be keerful and not fall, and as how 
I 'm too old to go out fishing ; and when they 
want to be soft-spoken, they say as how they 
don't see as I fail, and how wonderful I keep 
my hearin'. I never did want to farm it, but 
'she' always took it to heart when I was off 
on a v'y'ge, and this farm and some consid- 
er'ble means beside come to her from her 
brother, and they all sot to and give me no 
peace of mind till I sold out my share of the 
Ann Eliza and come ashore for o:ood. I did 
keep an eighth of the Pactolus, and I was 
ship's husband for a long spell, but she never 
was heard from on her last voyage to Singa- 



io8 DEEPHAVEN 

pore. I was the lonesomest man, when 1 
first come ashore, that ever you see. Well, 
you are master hands to walk, if you come 
way up from the Brandon house. I wish the 
women was at home. Know Miss Brandon ? 
Why, yes ; and I remember all her brothers 
and sisters, and her father and mother. I 
can see 'em now coming into meeting, proud 
as Lucifer and straight as a mast, every one 
of 'em. Miss Katharine, she always had her 
butter from this very farm. Some of the 
folks used to go down every Saturday; and 
my wife, she 's been in the house a hundred 
times, I s'pose. So you are Hathaway Bran- 
don's grand-daughter .-^ " (to Kate); "why, 
him and me have been out fishing together 
many 's the time, — he and Chantrey, his 
next younger brother. Henry, he was a dis- 
app'intment ; he went to furrin parts and 
never come back again, I s'pose you 've 
heard.-* I never was so set ag'in Mr. Henry 
as some folks was. He was the pleasantest 
spoken pf the whole on 'em. You do look 
like the' Brandons ; you really favor 'em 
consider'ble. Well, I 'm pleased to see ye, 
I 'm sure." 

We asked him many questions about the 
old people, and found he knew all the family 
histories and told them with great satisfac- 







i 



THE CAPTAINS ill 

tion. We found he had his pet stories, and 
it must have been gratifying to have an en- 
tirely new and fresh audience. He was 
adroit in leading the conversation around to 
a point where the stories would come in 
appropriately, and we helped him as much as 
possible. In a small neighborhood, all the 
people know ea£h other's stories and experi- 
ences by heart, and I have no doubt the old 
captain had been disregarded many times on 
the occasion of beginning a favorite anec- 
dote. There was a story which he told us 
that first day, which he assured us was 
strictly true, and it is certainly a remark- 
able instance of the influence of one mind 
upon another at a distance. It seems to me 
worth preserving, at any rate ; and as we 
heard it from the old man, with his solemn 
voice and serious expression and quaint ges- 
tures, it was singularly impressive. 

*'When I was a youngster," said Captain 
Lant, *' I was an orphan, and I was bound 
out to old Mr. Peletiah Daw's folks, over on 
the Ridge Road. It was in the time of the 
last war, and he had a nephew, Ben Dighton, 
a dreadful high-strung, wild fellow, who had 
gone off on a privateer. The old man, he 
set everything by Ben ; he would disoblige 
his own boys any day to please him. This 



112 DEEPHAVEN 

was in his latter days, and he used to have 
spells of wandering and being out of his 
head ; and he used to call for Ben and talk 
sort of foolish about him, till they would tell 
him to stop. Ben never did a stroke of 
work for him, either ; but he was a handsome 
fellow, and had a way with him when he was 
good-natured. One night old Peletiah had 
been very bad all day, and was getting 
quieted down, and it was after supper ; we 
sat round in the kitchen, and he lay in the 
bedroom opening out. There were some 
pitch-knots blazing, and the light shone in 
on the bed, and all of a sudden something 
made me look up and look in ; and there was 
the old man setting up straight, with his 
eyes shining at me like a cat's. ' Stop 'em ! ' 
says he ; ^ stop 'em ! ' and his two sons run in 
then to catch hold of him, for they thought 
he was beginning with one of his wild spells ; 
but he fell back on the bed and began to cry 
like a baby. ' Oh, dear me,' says he, * they 've 
hung him, — hung him right up to the yard- 
arm ! Oh, they ought n't to have done it ; cut 
him down quick ! he did n't think; he means 
well, Ben does ; he was only hasty. O my 
God, I can't bear to see him swing round by 
the neck ! There 's poor Ben hung up to 
the yard-arm. Let me alone, I say ! ' An- 



THE CAPTAINS 113 

drew and Moses, they were holding him with 
all their might, and they were both hearty 
men ; but he 'most got away from them once 
or twice, and he screeched and howled like a 
mad creatur', and then he would cry again 
like a child. He was worn out after a while 
and lay back quiet, and said over and over, 
' Poor Ben ! ' and ' hung at the yard-arm ; ' 
and he told the neighbors next day, but no- 
body noticed him much, and he seemed to 
forget it as his mind come back. All that 
summer he was miser'ble, and towards cold 
weather he failed right along, though he had 
been a master strong man in his da}^ and his 
timbers held together well. Along late in 
the fall he had taken to his bed, and one day 
there came to the house a fellow named Sim 
Decker, a reckless fellow he was, too, who 
had gone out in the same ship with Ben. He 
pulled a long face when he came in, and said 
he had brought bad news. They had been 
taken prisoner and carried into port and put 
in jail, and Ben Dighton had got a fever 
there and died. 

'' ' You lie ! ' says the old man from the 
bedroom, speaking as loud and f'erce as ever 
you heard. ' They hung him to the yard- 
arm ! ' 

*** Don't mind him,' says Andrew; 'he's 



114 DEEPHAVEN 

wandering-like, and he had a bad dream 
along back in the spring; I s'posed he'd 
forgotten it.' But the Decker fellow, he 
turned pale, and kept talking crooked while 
he listened to old Peletiah a scolding to him- 
self. He answered the questions the women- 
folks asked him, — they took on a good 
deal, — but pretty soon he got up and winked 
to me and Andrew, and we went out in the 
yard. He begun to swear, and then says he, 
' When did the old man have his dream ? ' 
Andrew could n't remember, but I knew it 
was the night before he sold the gray colt, 
and that was the 24th of April. 

** ' Well,' says Sim Decker, 'on the twenty- 
third day of April, Ben Dighton was hung to 
the yard-arm, and I see 'em do it, Lord help 
him ! I did n't mean to tell the women, and 
I s'posed you'd never know, for I'm all the 
one of the ship's company you 're ever likely 
to see. W'e were taken prisoner, and Ben 
was mad as fire, and they were scared of him 
and chained him to the deck ; and while he 
was sulking there, a little parrot of a mid- 
shipman come up and grinned at him and 
snapped his fingers in his face ; and Ben 
lifted his hands with the heavy irons and 
sprung at him like a tiger, and the boy 
dropped dead as a stone ; and they put the 



THE CAPTAINS 115 

bight of a rope round Ben's neck and slung him 
right up to the yard-arm, and there he swung 
back and forth until, as soon as we dared, 
one of us dim' up and cut the rope and let 
him go over the ship's side ; and they put 
us in irons for that, curse 'em ! How did that 
old man in there know, and he bedridden 
here, nigh upon three thousand miles off ? ' 
says he. But I guess there was n't any of 
us could tell him," said Captain Lant in con- 
clusion. " It 's something I never could ac- 
count for, but it 's true as truth. I 've known 
more such cases ; some folks laughs at me 
for believing 'em, — ' the cap'n's yarns,' they 
calls 'em, — but if you '11 notice, everybody's 
got some yarn of that kind they do believe, 
if they won't believe yours. And there's a 
good deal happens in the world that 's mys- 
ter'ous. Now there was Widder Oliver Pink- 
ham, over to the P'int, told me with her own 
lips that she" — But just here we saw 
the captain's expression alter suddenly, and 
looked around to see a wagon coming up the 
lane. We immediately said we must go 
home, for it was growing late, but asked per- 
mission to come again and hear the Widow 
Oliver Pinkham story. We stopped, how- 
ever, to see ''the women-folks,"- and after- 
ward became so intimate with them that we 



ii6 DEEPHAVEN 

were invited to spend the afternoon and take 
tea, which invitation we accepted with great 
pride. We went out fishing, also, with the 
captain and *' Danny," of whom I will tell 
you presently. I often think of Captain 
Lant in the winter, for he told Kate once 
that he ''felt master old in winter to what he 
did in summer." He likes reading, fortu- 
nately, and we had a letter from him, not 
long ago, acknowledging the receipt of some 
books of travel by land and water which we 
had luckily thought to send him. He gave 
the latitude and longitude of Deephaven at 
the beginning of his letter, and signed him- 
self, "Respectfully yours with esteem, Jacob 
Lant (condemned as unseaworthy)." 




'Dan7iy 

DEEPHAVEN seemed more like one of 
the lazy little English seaside towns 
than any other. It was not in the least 
American. There was no excitement about 
anything ; there were no manufactories ; no- 
body seemed in the least hurry. The only 
foreigners were a few stranded sailors. I do 
not know when a house or a new building 
of any kind had been built ; the men were 
farmers, or went outward in boats, or inward 
in fish-wagons, or sometimes mackerel and 
halibut fishing in schooners for the city 
markets. Sometimes a schooner came to one 
of the wharves to load with hay or firewood ; 



iiS DEEPHAVEN 

but Dccphaven used to be a town of note, 
rich and busy, as its forsaken warehouses 
show. 

We knew ahnost all the fisherpeople at 
the shore, even old Dinnett, who lived an 
apparently desolate life by himself in a 
tumble-down hut and was reputed to have 
been a bloodthirsty pirate in his youth. He 
was consequently feared by all the chil- 
dren, and for misdemeanors in his latter days 
avoided generally. Kate talked with him 
awhile one day on the shore, and made him 
come up with her for a bandage for his hand 
which she saw he had hurt badly ; and the 
next morning he brought us a " new " lobster 
apiece, — fishermen mean that a thing is only 
not salted when they say it is "fresh." We 
happened to be in the hall, and received him 
ourselves, and gave him a great piece of 
tobacco and (unintentionally) the means of 
drinking our health. ''Bless your pretty 
hearts ! " said he ; " may ye be happy, and 
live long, and get good husbands, and if they 
ain't good to you may they die from you ! " 

None of our friends were more interesting 
than the fishermen. The fish-houses, which 
might be called the business centre of the 
town, were at a little distance from the old 
warehouses, farther down the harbor shore, 



DANNY 1 19 

and were ready to fall down in despair. 
There were some fishermen who lived near 
by, but most of them were also farmers in a 
small way, and lived in the village or farther 
inland. From our eastern windows we could 
see the moorings, and we always liked to 
watch the boats go out or come straying in, 
one after the other, tipping and skimming 
under the square little sails ; and we often 
went down to the fish-houses to see what 
kind of a catch there had been. 

I should have imagined that the sea would 
become very commonplace to men whose 
business was carried on in boats, and who 
had spent night after night and day after day 
from their boyhood on the water ; but that 
is a mistake. They have an awe of the sea 
and of its mysteries, and of what it hides 
away from us. They are childish in their 
wonder at any strange creature which they 
find. If they have not seen the sea-serpent, 
they believe, I am sure, that other people 
have ; and when a great shark or black-fish 
or sword-fish was taken and brought in shore, 
everybody went to see it, and we talked about 
it, and how brave its conqueror was, and 
what a fight there had been, for a long time 
afterward. 

I said that we liked to see the boats go 



120 DEEPHAVEN 

out ; but I must not give you the impression 
that we saw them often, for they weighed 
anchor at an early hour in the morning. I 
remember once there was a light fog over 
the sea, lifting fast, as the sun was coming 
up, and the brownish sails disappeared in the 
mist, while voices could still be heard for 
some minutes after the men were hidden 
from sight. This gave one a curious feel- 
ing, but afterward, when the sun had risen, 
everything looked much the same as usual ; 
the fog had gone, and the dories and even 
the larger boats were distant specks on the 
sparkling sea. 

One afternoon we made a new acquaintance 
in this wise. We went down to the shore to 
see if we could hire a conveyance to the light- 
house the next morning. We often went out 
early in one of the fishing-boats ; and after we 
had stayed as long as we pleased, Mr. Kew 
would bring us home. It was quiet enough 
that day, for not a single boat had come in, 
and there were no men to be seen along- 
shore. There was a solemn company of lob- 
ster-coops, or cages, which had been brought 
in to be mended. They always amused Kate. 
She said they seemed to her like droll old 
women telling each other secrets. These 
were scattered about in different attitudes, 
and looked more confidential than usual. 



DANNY I2T 

Just as we were going away, we happened 
to see a man at work in one of the sheds. He 
was the fisherman whom we knew least of all ; 
an odd-looking, silent sort of man, more sun- 
burnt and weatherbeaten than any of the 
others. We had learned to know him by the 
bright red flannel shirt he always wore, and 
besides, he was lame ; some one told us he 
had had a bad fall once, on board ship. Kate 
and I had always wished we could find a 
chance to talk with him. He looked up at 
us pleasantly ; and when we nodded and 
smiled, he said '' Good day" in a gruff, hearty 
voice, and went on with his work, cleaning 
mackerel. 

'' Do you mind our watching you ? " asked 
Kate. 

" No, ma am I " said the fisherman emphat- 
ically. So there we stood. 

Those fish-houses were curious places, so 
different from any other kind of workshop. 
In this there was a seine, or part of one, 
festooned among the cross-beams overhead, 
and there were snarled fishing-lines, and bar- 
rows to carry fish in, like wheelbarrows with- 
out wheels ; there were the queer round lob- 
ster-nets, and **kits" of salt mackerel, tubs 
of bait, and piles of clams ; and some queer 
bones, and parts of remarkable fish, and lob- 



122 DEEPHAVEN 

ster-claws of surprising size fastened on the 
walls for ornament. There was a pile of rub- 
bish down at the end ; I dare say it was all 
useful, however, — there is such mystery 
about the business. 

Kate and I were never tired of hearing of 
the fish that come at different times of the 
year, and go away again, like the birds ; or 
of the actions of the dog-fish, which the 'long- 
shoremen hate so bitterly ; and then there are 
such curious legends and traditions, of which 
almost all fishermen have a store. 

'' I think mackerel are the prettiest fish 
that swim," said I presently. 

" So do I," said the man, '' not to say but 
I 've seen more fancy-looking fish down in 
southern waters, bright as any flower you 
ever see ; but a mackerel," holding up one 
admiringly, "why, they're so clean-built and 
trig-looking ! Put a cod alongside, and he 
looks as lumbering as an old-fashioned Dutch 
brig aside a yacht. 

" Those are good-looking fish, but they an't 
made much account of," continued our friend, 
as he pushed aside the mackerel and took 
another tub. '* They 're hake, I s'pose you 
know. But I forgot, — I can't stop to bother 
with them now." And he pulled forward a 
barrow full of small fish, flat and hard, with 
pointed, bony heads. 



DANNY 125 

''Those are porgies, aren't they?" asked 
Kate. 

"Yes," said the man, "an' I'm going to 
sliver them for the trawls." 

We knew what the trawls were, and sup- 
posed that the porgies were to be used for 
bait; and we soon found out what "sliver- 
ing " meant, by seeing him take them by the 
head and cut a slice from first one side and 
then the other in such a way that the pieces 
looked not unlike smaller fish. 

"It seems to me," said I, "that fisher- 
men always have sharper knives than other 
people." 

" Yes, we do like a sharp knife in our 
trade ; and then we are mostly strong- 
handed." 

He was throwing the porgies' heads and 
backbones — all that was left of them after 
slivering — in a heap; and now several cats 
walked in as if they felt at home, and began a 
hearty lunch. " What a troop of pussies 
there is round here," said I ; " I wonder what 
will become of them in the winter, — though, 
to be sure, the fishing goes on just the 
same." 

" The better part of them don't get through 
the cold weather," said Danny. "Two or 
three of the old ones have been here for some 



126 dp:ephaven 

years, and are as much belonging to Deep- 
haven as the meetin'-house ; but the rest of 
them an't to be depended on. You '11 miss 
the young ones by the dozen, come spring. 
I don't know myself but they move inland in 
the fall of the year; they 're knowing enough, 
if that's all!" 

Kate and I stood in the wide doorway, arm 
in arm, looking sometimes at the queer fisher- 
man and the porgies, and sometimes out to 
sea. It was low tide ; the wind had risen a 
little, and the heavy salt air blew toward us 
from the wet brown ledges in the rocky har- 
bor. The sea was bright blue, and the sun 
was shining. Two gulls were swinging lazily 
to and fro ; there was a flock of sandpipers 
down by the water's edge, in a great hurry, 
as usual. 

Presently the fisherman spoke again, be- 
ginning with an odd laugh: "I was scared 
last winter ! Jack Scudder and me, we were 
up in the Cap'n Manning storehouse hunting 
for a half-bar'l of salt the skipper said was 
there. It was an awful blustering kind of 
day, with a thin icy rain blowing from all 
points at once ; sea roaring as if it wished it 
could come ashore and put a stop to every- 
thing. Bad days at sea, them are ; rigging 
all froze up. As I was saying, we were 



DANNY 127 

hunting for a half-bar'l of salt, and I laid 
hold of a bar'l that had something heavy in 
the bottom, and tilted it up, and my eye ! 
there was a stir and a scratch and a squeal, 
and out went some kind of a creatur', and I 
jumped back, not looking for anything live, 
but I see in a minute it was a cat ; and per- 
haps you think it is a big story, but there 
were eight more in there, hived in together 
to keep warm. I card 'em up some new fish 
that night ; they seemed short of provisions. 
We had n't been out fishing as much as 
common, and they had n't dared to be round 
the fish-houses much, for a fellow who came 
in on a coaster had a dog, and he used to 
chase 'em. Hard chance they had, and lots 
of 'em died, I guess ; but there seem to be 
some survivin' relatives, an' al'ays just so 
hungry ! I used to feed them some when I 
was ashore. I think likely you 've heard 
that a cat will fetch you bad luck ; but I 
don't know 's that made much difference to 
me. I kind of like to keep on the right side 
of 'em, too ; if ever I have a bad dream 
there 's sure to be a cat in it ; but I was 
brought up to be clever to dumb beasts, an' 
I guess it 's my natur'. Except fish,'' said 
Danny, after a minute's thought; '' but then 
it never seems like they had feelin's like 



128 DEEPHAVEN 

creatiir's that live ashore." And we all 
laughed heartily and felt well acquainted. 

" I s'pose you ladies will laugh if I tell ye 
I kept a kitty once myself." This was said 
rather shyly, and there was evidently a story, 
so we were much interested, and Kate said, 
*' Please tell us about it ; was it at sea? " 

"Yes, it was at sea ; leastways, on a coaster. 
I got her in a sing'lar kind of way : it 
was one afternoon we were lying alongside 
Charlestown Bridge, and I heard a young cat 
screeching real pitiful ; and after I looked all 
round, I see her in the water clutching on to 
the pier of the bridge, and some little divils 
of boys were heaving rocks down at her. I 
got into the schooner's tag-boat quick, I tell 
ye, and pushed off for her, 'n' she let go just 
as I got there, 'n' I guess you never saw a 
more miser'ble-looking creatur' than I fished 
out of the water. Cold weather it was. Her 
leg was hurt, and her eye, and I thought first 
I 'd drop her overboard again, and then I 
did n't, and I took her aboard the schooner 
and put her by the stove. I thought she 
might as well die where it was warm. She 
eat a little mite of chowder before night, 
but she was very slim ; but next morning, 
when I went to see if she was dead, she fell 
to licking my finger, and she did purr away 




Danny 



DANNY 131 

like a dolphin. One of her eyes was out, 
where a stone had took her, and she never 
got any use of it ; but she used to look at you 
so clever with the other, and she got well of 
her lame foot after a while. I got to be 
ter'ble fond of her. She was just the know- 
ingest thing you ever saw, and she used to 
sleep alongside of me in my bunk, and like 
as not she would go on deck with me when 
it was my watch. I was coasting then most 
o' the time for a year and eight months, and 
I kept her long of me. We used to be in 
harbor consider'ble, and about eight o'clock 
in the forenoon I used to drop a line and 
catch her a couple of cunners. Now, it is 
cur'us that she used to know when I was 
fishing for her. She would pounce on them 
fish and carry 'em oft^ and growl, and she 
knew when I got a bite, — she 'd watch the 
line ; but when we were mackereling she 
never give us any trouble. She would never 
lift a paw to touch any of our fish. She 
did n't have the thieving ways common to 
most cats. She used to set round on 
deck in fair weather, but when the wind 
blew she al'ays kept herself below. Some- 
times when we were in port she would go 
ashore a while, and fetch back a bird or a 
mouse, but she would n't never eat it till 



132 DEEPHAVEX 

she come and showed it to me. She never 
wanted to stop long ashore, though I did n't 
shut her up ; I always give her her liberty. 
I got a good deal of joking about her from 
the fellows, but she was a sight of company. 
I don' know as I ever had anything like me 
as much as she did. Not to say as I ever 
had much of any trouble with anybody, 
ashore or afloat But then, I han't had a 
home, what I call a home, since I was going 
on nine year old." 

''How has that happened.?" asked Kate. 

*' Well, mother, she died, and I was bound 
out to a man in the tanning trade, and I 
hated him, and I hated the trade ; and when 
I was a little bigger I ran away, and I 've 
followed the sea ever since. I was n't much 
use to him, I guess ; leastways, he never 
took the trouble to hunt me up. 

" About the best place I ever was in was a 
hospital. It was in foreign parts. Ye see 
I 'm crippled some ? I fell from the topsail 
yard to the deck, and I struck my shoulder, 
and broke my leg, and banged myself all up. 
It was to a nuns' hospital where they took 
me. All of the nuns were Catholics, and 
they wore white things on their heads. I 
don't suppose you ever saw any. Have you ? 
Well, now, that 's queer ! When I was first 



DANNY 133 

there I was scared of them ; they were real 
ladies, and I was n't used to being in a house, 
any way. One of them, that took care of 
me most of the time, why, she would even 
set up half the night with me, and I couldn't 
begin to tell you how good-natured she was, 
an' she 'd look real sorry, too. I used to be 
ugly, I ached so, along in the first of my 
being there, but I spoke of it when I was 
coming away, and she said it was all right. 
She used to feed me, that lady did ; and there 
were some days I could n't lift my head, and 
she would rise it on her arm. She give me 
a little mite of a book when I come away. 
I 'm not much of a hand at reading, but I al- 
ways kept it on account of her. She was so 
pleased when I got so 's to set up in a chair 
and look out of the window. She was n't 
much of a hand to talk English. I did feel 
bad to come away from there ; I 'most wished 
I could be sick a while longer. I never said 
much of anything either, and I don't know 
but she thought it was queer ; but I am a 
dreadful clumsy man to say anything, and I 
got flustered. I don't know 's I mind telling 
you ; I was 'most a-crying. I used to think 
I 'd lay by some money and ship for there 
and carry her something real pretty. But I 
don't rank able-bodied seaman like I used, 



134 di:ephaven 

and it 's as much as I can do to get a berth 
on a coaster ; I suppose I might go as cook. 
I liked to have died with my hurt at that hos- 
pital ; but when I was getting well it made 
me think of when I was a mite of a chap to 
home before mother died, to be laying there 
in a clean bed with somebody to do for me. 
Guess you think I 'm a good hand to talk ; 
somehow it comes easy to-day." 

"What became of your cat ? " asked Kate, 
after a pause, during which our friend sliced 
away at the porgies. 

'^ I never rightly knew ; it was in Salem 
harbor and a windy night. I was on deck 
consider'ble, for the schooner pitched lively, 
and once or twice she dragged her anchor. 
I never saw the kitty after she eat her sup- 
per. I remember I gave her some milk, — I 
used to buy her a pint once in a while for a 
treat ; I don't know but she might have gone 
oft' on a cake of ice, but it did seem as if she 
had too much sense for that. Most likely 
she missed her footing, and fell overboard in 
the dark. She was marked real pretty, black 
and white, and kep' herself just as clean ! 
She knew as well as could be w^hen foul 
weather was coming ; she would bother round 
and act queer ; but when the sun was out she 
would sit round on deck as pleased as a 



DANNY 135 

queen. There ! I feel bad sometimes when 
I think of her, and I never went into Salem 
since without hoping that I should see her. 
I don't know but if I was a-going to begin 
my life over again, I 'd settle down ashore 
and have a snug little house and farm it. 
But I guess I shall do better at fishing. 
Give me a trig-built topsail schooner painted 
up nice, with a stripe on her, and clean sails, 
and a fresh wind with the sun a-shining, and 
I feel first-rate." 

*' Do you believe that codfish swallow 
stones before a storm ? " asked Kate. I had 
been thinking about the lonely fisherman in 
a sentimental way, and so irrelevant a ques- 
tion shocked me. '* I saw he felt slightly 
embarrassed at having talked about his af- 
fairs so much," Kate told me afterward, ''and 
I thought we should leave him feeling more at 
his ease if we talked about fish for a while." 
And sure enough he did seem relieved, and 
gave us hfs opinion about the codfish at 
once, adding that he never cared much for 
cod any way; folks up country bought 'em a 
good deal, he heard. Give him a haddock 
right out of the water for his dinner ! 

''I never can remember," said Kate, 
'' whether it is cod or haddock that have a 
black stripe along their sides " — 



136 dep:phaven 

"Oh, those are haddock," said I ; "they say 
that the devil caught a haddock once, and it 
sHpped through his fingers and got scorched, 
so all the haddock had the same mark after- 
ward." 

"Well, now, how did you know that old 
story ? " said Danny, laughing heartily ; " ye 
must n't believe all the old stories ye hear, 
mind ye! " 

" Oh, no," said we. 

" Hullo ! There 's Jim Toggerson's boat 
close in shore. She sets low in the water, 
so he 's done well. He and Skipper Scudder 
have been out deep-sea fishing since yester- 
day." 

Our friend pushed the porgies back into a 
corner, stuck his knife into a beam, and we 
hurried down to the shore. Kate and I sat 
on the pebbles, and he went out to the 
moorings in a dirty dory to help unload the 
fish. 

We afterward saw a great deal of Danny, 
as all the men called him. But though Kate 
and I tried our best and used our utmost 
skill and tact to make him tell us more about 
himself, he never did. But perhaps there 
was nothing more to be told. 

The day we left Deephaven we went down 
to the shore to say good-by to him and to 



DANNY 137 

some other friends, and he said, " Goin', are 
ye ? Well, I 'm sorry ; ye 've treated me first- 
rate ; the Lord bless ye!" and then was 
so much mortified at the way he had said 
farewell that he turned and fled round the 
corner of the fish-house. 




Captain Sands 

OLD Captain Sands was one of the most 
prominent citizens of Deephaven, and 
a very good friend of Kate's and mine. We 
often met him, and grew much interested in 
him before we knew him well. He had a 
reputation in town for being peculiar and 
somewhat visionary ; but every one seemed 
to like him, and at last one morning, when 
we happened to be on our way to the 
wharves, we stopped at the door of an old 
warehouse, which we had never seen opened 
before. Captain Sands sat just inside, smok- 
ing his pipe, and we said good morning, and 
asked him if he did not think there was a 
fog coming in by and by. We had thought 



CAPTAIN SANDS 139 

a littlo of going out to the lighthouse. The 
cap'n rose slowly, and came out so that he 
could see farther round to the east. " There 's 
some scud coming in a' ready," said he. 
''None to speak of yet, I don't know's you 
can see it, — yes, yes, you Ve right ; there 's 
a heavy bank of fog lyin' off, but it won't be 
in under two or three hours yet, unless the 
wind backs round more and freshens up. 
Were n't thinking of going out, were ye .'' " 
"A little," said Kate, "but we had nearly 
given it up. We are getting to be very 
weather-wise, and we pride ourselves on 
being quick at seeing fogs." At which the 
cap'n smiled and said we were consider'ble 
young to know much about weather, but it 
looked well that we took some interest in it ; 
most young people were fools about weather, 
and would just as soon set off to go anywhere 
right under the edge of a thunder-shower. 
"Come in and set down, won't ye .^ " he 
added ; " it ain't much of a place ; I 've got 
a lot of old stuff stowed away here that the 
women-folks don't want up to the house. 
I 'm a great hand for keeping things." And 
he looked round fondly at the contents of the 
low room. " I come down here once in a 
while and let in the sun, and sometimes I 
want to hunt up something or 'nother ; kind 



I40 de?:phaven 

of stow-away place, yc see." And then he 
laughed apologetically, rubbing his hands 
together, and looking out to sea again as if 
he wished to appear unconcerned ; yet we 
saw that he wondered if we thought it ridicu- 
lous for a man of his age to have treasured 
up so much trumpery in that cobwebby place. 
There were some whole oars and the sail of 
his boat and two or three killicks and paint- 
ers, not to forget a heap of wornout oars and 
sails in one corner and a sailor's hammock 
slung across the beam overhead, and there 
were some sailor's chests and the capstan 
of a ship and innumerable boxes which all 
seemed to be stuffed full, besides no end 
of things lying on the floor and packed away 
on shelves and hanging to rusty big-headed 
nails in the wall. I saw some great lumps of 
coral, and large, rough shells, a great hornet's 
nest, and a monstrous lobster-shell. The 
cap'n had cobbled and tied up some remark- 
able old chairs for the accommodation of 
himself and his friends. 

" What a nice place ! " said Kate in a frank, 
delighted way which could not have failed to 
be gratifying. 

"Well, no," said the cap'n, with his slow 
smile, " it ain't what you 'd rightly call 'nice,' 
as I know of : it ain't never been cleared out 



CAPTAIN SANDS 141 

all at once since I began putting in. There 's 
nothing that 's worth anything, either, to 
anybody but me. Wife, she 's said to me 
a hundred times, 'Why don't you overhaul 
them old things and burn 'em ? ' She 's al'ays 
at me about letting the property, as if it 
were a corner-lot in Broadway. That 's all 
women-folks know about business ! " And 
here the captain caught himself tripping, 
and looked uneasy for a minute. " I suppose 
I might have let it for a fish-house, but it 's 
most too far from the shore to be handy — 
and — well — there are some things here that 
I set a good deal by." 

"Is n't that a sword-fish's sword in that 
piece of wood ? " Kate asked, presently ; and 
was answered that it was found broken off 
as we saw it, in the hull of a wreck that went 
ashore on Blue P'int when the captain was a 
young man, and he had sawed it out and kept 
it ever since, — fifty-nine years. Of course 
we went closer to look at it, and we both 
felt a great sympathy for this friend of ours, 
because we have the same fashion of keeping 
worthless treasures, and we understood per- 
fectly how dear such things may be. 

" Do you mind if we look round a little ? " 
I asked, doubtfully, for I knew how I should 
hate having strangers look over my own 



142 DKKF HAVEN 

treasury. But Captain Sands looked pleased 
at our interest, and said cheerfully that we 
miii'ht overhaul as much as we chose. Kate 
discovered first an old battered wooden 
figure-head of a ship, — a woman's head with 
long curly hair falling over the shoulders. 
The paint was almost gone, and the dust cov- 
ered most of what was left : still there was a 
wonderful spirit and grace, and a wild, weird 
beauty which attracted us exceedingly ; but 
the captain could only tell us that it had be- 
longed to the wreck of a Danish brig which 
had been driven on the reef where the light- 
house stands now, and his father had found 
this on the long sands a day or two after- 
ward. " That was a dreadful storm," said the 
captain. " I ve heard the old folks tell about 
it ; it was when I was only a year or two old. 
There were three merchantmen wrecked 
within five miles of Deephaven. This one 
was all stove to splinters, and they used to 
say she had treasure aboard. When I was 
small I used to have a great idea of going 
out there to the rocks at low water and trying 
to find some gold, but I never made out no 
great." And he smiled indulgently at the 
thought of his youthful dream. 

"Kate," said I, " do you see what beauties 
these Turk's-head knots are ? " We had 



I 




^ 


■^■mrrw 


■ ~~VI 


i 


\r% 


11 


r-"" ' ' "^ii— n 


5- --» 


l< fi 


~ "^ -,, - . 




m 


:^m 


r - 


^ „ 










, 





CAPTAIN SANDS 145 

been taking a course of first lessons in knots 
from Danny, and had followed by learning 
some charmingly intricate ones from Captain 
Lant, the stranded mariner who lived on a 
farm two miles or so inland. Kate came 
over to look at the Turk's-heads, which were 
at either end of the rope handle of a little 
dark-blue chest. 

Captain Sands turned in his chair and 
nodded approval. " That 's a neat piece of 
work, and it was a first-rate seaman who did 
it ; he 's dead and gone years ago, poor young 
fellow ; an I-talian he was, who sailed on the 
Ranger three or four long voyages. He fell 
from the mast-head on the voyage home from 
Callao. Cap'n Manning and old Mr. Lori- 
mer, they owned the Ranger, and when she 
come into port and they got the news, they 
took it as much to heart as if he 'd been 
some relation. He was smart as a whip, and 
had a way with him, and the pleasantest kind 
of a voice ; you could n't help liking him. 
They found out that he had a mother alive 
in Port Mahon, and they sent his pay and 
some money he had in the bank at Riverport 
out to her by a ship that was going to the 
Mediterranean. He had some clothes in his 
chest, and they sold those and sent her the 
money, — all but some trinkets they supposed 



146 DEEPIIAVKN 

he was keeping for her ; I rec'lect he used 
to speak consider'ble about his mother. I 
shipped one v'y'ge with him before the mast, 
before I went out mate of the Daylight. I 
happened to be in port the time the Ranger 
got in, an' I see this chist lying round in 
Cap'n Manning's storehouse, and I offered 
to give him what it was worth ; but we was 
good friends, and he told me to take it if I 
wanted it, it was no use to him, and I 've kept 
it ever since. 

"There are some of his traps in it now, I 
believe ; ye can look." And we took off some 
tangled cod-lines and opened the chest. There 
was only a round wooden box in the till, and 
in some idle hour at sea the young sailor had 
carved his initials and an anchor and the date 
on the cover. We found some sail-needles 
and a palm in this "ditty-box," as the sailors 
call it, and a little string of buttons with some 
needles and yarn and thread in a neat little 
bag, which perhaps his mother had made for 
him when he started off on his first voyage. 
Besides these things there was only a fanci- 
ful little broken buckle, green and gilt, which 
he might have picked up in some foreign 
street, and his protection-paper carefully 
folded, wherein he was certified as being a 
citizen of the United States, with dark com- 
plexion and dark hair. 



CAPTAIN SANDS 147 

" He was one of the pleasantest fellows 
that ever I shipped with," said the captain, 
with a o^ruff tenderness in his voice. "Al- 
ways willin' to do his work himself, and like 's 
not when the other fellows up the rigging 
were cold, or ugly about something or'nother, 
he 'd say something that would set them all 
laughing, and somehow it made you good- 
natured to see him round. He was brought 
up a Catholic, I s'pose ; anyway, he had some 
beads, and sometimes they would joke him 
about 'em on board ship, but he w^ould blaze 
up in a minute, ugly as a tiger. I never saw 
him mad about anything else, though he 
would n't stand it if anybody tried to crowd 
him. He fell from the main-to'-gallant yard 
to the deck, and was dead when they picked 
him up. They were off the Bermudas. I 
suppose he lost his balance, but I never 
could see how ; he was sure-footed, and as 
quick as a cat. They said they saw him try 
to catch at the stay, but there was a heavy 
sea running, and the ship rolled just so 's to 
let him through between the rigging, and he 
struck the deck like a stone. I don't know 's 
that chest has been opened these ten years, 
— I declare it carries me back to look at 
those poor little traps of his. Well, it 's the 
way of the world ; we think we 're somebody, 



148 DEEPHAVEN 

and we have our clay, but it is n't long afore 
we 're forcfotten." 

The captain reached over for the paper, 
arid, taking out a clumsy pair of steel-bowed 
spectacles, read it through carefully. " I '11 
warrant he took good care of this," said he. 
" He was an I-talian, and no more of an 
American citizen than a Chinese ; I wonder 
he had n't called himself John Jones, that 's 
the name most of the foreigners used to take 
when they got their papers. I remember 
once I was sick with a fever in Chelsea Hos- 
pital, and one morning they came bringing 
in the mate of a Portugee brig on a stretcher, 
and the surgeon asked what his name Avas. 
* John Jones,' says he. 'Oh, say something 
else,' says the surgeon ; * we 've got five John 
Joneses here a'ready, and it's getting to be 
no name at all' Sailors are great hands for 
false names ; they have a trick of using them 
when they have any money to leave ashore, 
for fear their shipmates will go and draw it 
out. I suppose there are thousands of dol- 
lars unclaimed in New York banks, where 
men have left it charged to their false names ; 
then they get lost at sea or something, and 
never go to get it, and nobody knows whose 
it is. They 're curious folks, take 'em alto- 
gether, sailors is ; specially these foreign 



CAPTAIX SAXDS 149 

fellows that wander about from ship to ship. 
They 're getting to be a dreadful low set, too, 
of late years. It 's the last thing I 'd want a 
boy of mine to do, — ship before the mast 
with one of these mixed crews. It 's a doge's 
life, anyway, and the risks and the chances 
against you are awful. It 's a good while 
before you can lay up anything, unless you 
are part owner. I saw all the p'ints a good 
deal plainer after I quit followin' the sea my- 
self, though I 've always been more or less 
into navigation until this last war come on. 
I know when I was ship's husband of the 
Polly and Susan, there was a young man went 
out cap'n of her, — her last voyage, and she 
never was heard from. He had a wife and 
two or three little children ; and for all he was 
so smart, they would have been about the same 
as beggars, if I had n't happened to have his 
life insured the day I was having the papers 
made out for the ship. I happened to think 
of it. Five thousand dollars there was, and 
I sent it to the widow along with his primage. 
She hadn't expected nothing, or next to 
nothing, and she was pleased, I tell ye." 

*' I think it was very kind in you to think 
of that, Captain Sands," said Kate. And the 
old man said, flushing a little, " Well, I 'm not 
so smart as some of the men who started 



ISO DEEPHAVEN 

when I did, and some of 'em went ahead of 
me, but some of 'em did n't, after all. I 've 
tried to be honest, and to do just about as 
nigh right as I could, and you know there 's 
an old sayin' that a cripple in the right road 
will beat a racer in the wrong." 







/a^\r^ 'i^w^. ■ ■ V 




T/^e Circus at Denby 

KATE and I looked forward to a certain 
Saturday with as much eagerness as if 
we had been little school-boys, for on that 
day we were to go to a circus at Denby, a 
town perhaps eight miles inland. There had 
not been a circus so near Deephaven for a 
long time, and nobody had dared to believe 
the first rumor of it, until two dashing young 
men had deigned to come themselves to put 
up the big posters on the end of 'Bijah Mau- 
ley's barn. All the boys in town came as soon 
as possible to see these amazinag)ictures, and 
some were wretched in their secret hearts at 
the thought that they might not see the show 
itself. Tommy Dockum was more interested 
than any one else, and mentioned the subject 
so frequently one day, when he went rasp- 



152 DEEFHAVEN 

berrying with us, that we grew enthusiastic, 
and told each other what fun it would be to 
go, for everybody would be there, and it 
would be the greatest loss to us if we were 
absent. I thought I had lost my childish 
fondness for circuses, but it came back re- 
doubled ; and Kate may contradict me if she 
chooses, but I am sure she never looked for- 
ward to an Easter Oratorio with half the plea- 
sure she did to this '' caravan," as most of the 
people called it. 

We felt that it was a great pity that any of 
the boys and girls should be left lamenting 
at home ; and finding that there were some 
of our acquaintances and Tommy's who saw 
no chance of going, we engaged Jo Sands 
and Leander Dockum to carry them to Denby 
in two fish-wagons, with boards laid across 
for the extra seats. We saw them join the 
straggling train of carriages which had begun 
to go through the village from all along shore, 
soon after daylight, and they started on their 
journey shouting and carousing, with their 
pockets craijmed with early apples and other 
provisions. "^Ve thought it would have been 
fun enough to see the people go by, for we 
had had no idea until then how many inhabi- 
tants that country held. 

We had asked Mrs. Kew to go with us ; 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 153 

but she was half an hour later than she had 
promised, for, since there was no wind, she 
could not come ashore in the sail-boat, and 
Mr. Kew had to row her in in the dory. We 
saw the boat at last nearly in shore, and drove 
down to meet it : even the horse seemed to 
realize what a great day it was, and showed 
a disposition to friskiness, evidently as sur- 
prising to himself as to us. 

Mrs. Kew was funnier that day than we 
had ever known her, which is saying a great 
deal, and we should not have had half so good 
a time if she had not been with us ; although 
she lived in the lighthouse, and had no 
chance to '* see passing," which a woman 
prizes so highly in the country, she had a 
wonderful memory for faces, and could tell 
us the names of all Deephaveners and of most 
of the people we met outside its limits. She 
looked impressive and solemn as she hurried 
up from the water's edge, giving Mr. Kew 
some parting charges over her shoulder as 
he pushed off the boat to go back ; but after 
we had convinced her that the fllilay had not 
troubled us, she seemed more ctieerful. It 
was evident that she felt the importance of 
the occasion, and that she was pleased at our 
having chosen her for company. She threw 
back her veil entirely, sat very straight, and 



154 DKKPHAVEN 

took immense pains to bow to every acquaint- 
ance whom she met. She wore her best 
Sunday clothes, and her manner was formal 
for the first few minutes ; it was evident that 
she felt we were meeting under unusual cir- 
cumstances, and that, although we had often 
met before on the friendliest terms, our hav- 
ing asked her to make this excursion in pub- 
lic required a different sort of behavior at her 
hands, and a due amount of ceremony and 
propriety. But this state of things did not 
last long, as she soon made a remark at which 
Kate and I laughed so heartily, in lighthouse- 
acquaintance fashion, that she unbent, and 
gave her whole mind to enjoying herself. 

When we came by the store where the 
post-office was kept, we saw a small knot of 
people gathered round the door, and stopped 
to see what had happened. There was a for- 
lorn horse standing near, with his harness 
tied up with fuzzy ends of rope, and the 
wagon was cobbled together with pieces of 
board ; the whole craft looked as if it might 
be wrecke^with the least jar. In the wagon 
were four or five stupid-looking boys and 
girls, one of whom was crying softly. Their 
father was ill, some one told us. " He was 
took faint, but he is coming to all right ; they 
have give him something to take : their name 



THE CIRCUS AT DEXBV 157 

is Craper, and they live way over beyond the 
Ridge, on Stone Hill. They were goin' over 
to Denby to the circus, and the man was 
calc'lating to get doctored, but I d' know 's 
he can get so fur ; he 's powerful slim-looking 
to me." Kate and I went to see if we could 
be of any use ; and when we went into the 
store we saw the man leaning back in his 
chair, looking ghastly pale, and as if he were 
far gone in consumption. Kate spoke to 
him, and he said he was better ; he had felt 
bad all the way along, but he had n't given 
in. He was pitiful, poor fellow, with his 
evident attempt at dressing up. He had 
the bushiest, dustiest red hair and whiskers, 
which made the pallor of his face still more 
striking, and his illness had thinned and paled 
his rough, clumsy hands. I thought what a 
hard piece of work it must have been for him 
to start for the circus that morning, and how 
kind-hearted he must be to have made such 
an effort for his children's pleasure. As we 
went out they stared at us gloomily. The 
shadow of their disappointment touched and 
chilled our. pleasure. 

Somebody had turned the horse so that he 
was heading toward home, and by his actions 
he showed that he was the only one of the 
party who was glad. We were so sorry for 



158 dei:phaven 

the children ; perhaps it had promised to be 
the happiest day of their lives, and now they 
must go back to their uninteresting home 
without having seen the great show. 

" I am so sorry you are disappointed," said 
Kate, as we were wondering how the man 
who had followed us could ever climb into 
the wagon. 

'' Heh ? " said he, blankly, as if he did not 
know what her words meant. *'What fool 
has been a-turning o' this horse.?" he asked 
a man who was looking on. 

" Why, which way be ye goin' } " 

" To the circus," said Mr. Craper, with de- 
cision; "where d' ye s'pose .'* That's where 
I started for, anyways." And he climbed in 
and glanced round to count the children, 
struck the horse with the willow switch, and 
they started off briskly, while everybody 
laughed. Kate and I joined Mrs. Kew, who 
had enjoyed the scene. 

"Well, there!" said she, "I wonder the 
folks in the old North burying-ground ain't 
a-rising up to go to Denby to that caravan !" 

We reached Denby at noon ; it was an un- 
interesting town which had grown up about 
some mills. There was a great commotion 
in the streets, and it was evident that we had 
lost much in not having seen the procession. 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 159 

There was a great deal of business going on 
in the shops, and there were two or three 
hand-organs at large, near one of which we 
stopped awhile to listen, just after we had 
met Leander and given the horse into his 
charge. Mrs. Kew finished her shopping as 
soon as possible, and we hurried toward the 
great tents, where all the flags were flying. 
I think I have not told you that we were to 
have the benefit of seeing a menagerie in 
addition to the circus, and you may be sure 
we went faithfully round to see everything 
that the cages held. 

I cannot truthfully say that it was a good 
show ; it was somewhat dreary, now that I 
think of it quietly and without excitement. 
The creatures looked tired, and as if they had 
been on the road for a great many years. The 
animals were all old, and there was a shabby 
great elephant whose look of general dis- 
couragement went to my heart, for it seemed 
as if he were miserably conscious of a mis- 
spent life. He stood dejected and motionless 
at one side of the tent, and it was hard to 
believe that there was a spark of vitality left 
in him. A great number of the people had 
never seen an elephant before, and we heard 
a thin little old man, who stood near us, say 
delightedly, ''There's the old creatur', and 



i6o DEEPHAVEN 

no mistake, Ann 'Liza. I wanted to see him 
most of anything. My sakes ahve, ain't he 
big!" 

And Ann 'Liza, who was stout and sleepy- 
looking, droned out, '*Ye-es, there's con- 
sider' ble of him ; but he looks as if he hain't 
got no sprawl/' 

Kate and I turned away and laughed, 
while ]\Irs. Kew said confidentially, as the 
couple moved away, " She need n't be a-re- 
flectin' on the poor beast. That 's Mis' Seth 
Tanner, and there is n't a woman in Deep- 
haven nor East Parish to be named the 
same day with her for laziness. I 'm glad 
she did n't catch sight of me ; she 'd have 
talked about nothing for a fortnight." 

There was a picture of a huge snake in 
Deephaven, and I was just wondering where 
he could be, or if there ever had been one, 
when we heard a boy ask the same question 
of the man whose thankless task it was to 
stir up the lions with a stick to make them 
roar. "The snake's dead," he answered 
good-naturedly. " Did n't you have to dig 
an awful long grave for him .^ " asked the 
boy ; but the man said he reckoned they 
curled him up some, and smiled as he turned 
to his lions, who looked as if they needed 
a tonic. Everybody lingered longest before 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 163 

the monkeys, who seemed to be the only 
lively creatures in the whole collection ; and 
finally we made our way into the other tent, 
and perched ourselves on a high seat, from 
whence we had a capital view of the audience 
and the ring, and could see the people come 
in. Mrs. Kew was on the lookout for ac- 
quaintances, and her spirits as well as our 
own seemed to rise higher and higher. She 
was on the alert, moving her head this way 
and that to catch sight of people, giving us 
a running commentary in the mean time. It 
was very pleasant to see a person so happy 
as Mrs. Kew was that day, and I dare say in 
speaking of the occasion she would say the 
same thing of Kate and me, — for it was such 
a good time ! We bought some peanuts, 
without which no circus seems complete, 
and we listened to the conversations which 
were being carried on round us while we 
were waiting for the performance to begin. 
There were two old farmers whom we had 
noticed occasionally in Deephaven ; one was 
telling the other, with great confusion of pro- 
nouns, about a big pig which had lately been 
killed. " John did feel dreadful disappointed 
at having to kill now," we heard him say, 
"bein' as he had calc'lated to kill along near 
Thanksgivin' time ; there was goin' to be a 



1 64 DEEPHAVEN 

new moon then, and he expected to get sev- 
enty-five or a hundred pound more on to him. 
But he did n't seem to gain, and me and 
'Bijah both told him he'd do better to kill 
now, while everything was favor'ble, and if he 
set out to wait, something might happen to 
him ; and then I 've always held that you can't 
get no hog only just so fur ; for my part I don't 
like these great overgrown creatur's. I like 
well enough to see a hog that '11 weigh six 
hunderd, just for the beauty on 't, but for my 
eatin' give me one that '11 just rise three. 
'Bijah 's accurate, and says he is goin' to 
weigh risin' five hundred and fifty. I shall 
stop, as I go home, to John's wife's brother's 
and see if they 've got the particulars yet ; 
John was goin' to get the scales this morning. 
I guess likely consider'ble many '11 gather 
there tomorrow after meeting. John did n't 
calc'late to cut up till Monday." 

" I guess likely I '11 stop in to-morrow," 
said the other man ; " I like to see a han'- 
some hog. Chester white, you said ? Con- 
sider them best, don't ye .'' " But this ques- 
tion never was answered, for the greater part 
of the circus company in gorgeous trappings 
came parading in. 

The circus was like all other circuses, 
except that it was shabbier than most, and 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 165 

the performers seemed to have less heart in 
it than usual. They did their best, and went 
through with their parts conscientiously, but 
they looked as if they never had had a good 
time in their lives. The audience was hila- 
rious, and cheered and laughed at the tired 
clown until he looked as if he thought his 
speeches might possibly be funny, after all. 
We were so glad we had pleased the poor 
thing ; and when he sang a song our satis- 
faction was still greater, and so he sang it all 
over again. Perhaps he had been associat- 
ing with people who were used to circuses. 
The afternoon was hot, and the boys with 
Japanese fans and trays of lemonade did a 
remarkable business for so late in the season ; 
the brass band on the other side of the tent 
shrieked its very best, and all the young men 
of the region had brought their girls ; and 
some of these countless pairs of country 
lovers we watched a great deal, as they " kept 
company " with more or less depth of satis- 
faction in each other. We had a grand 
chance to see the fashions, and there were 
many old people and a great number of lit- 
tle children, and some families had evidently 
locked their house door behind them, since 
they had brought both the dog and the 
baby. 



i66 DEEPHAVEN 

" Does n't it seem as if you were a child 
aecain ? " Kate asked me. " I am sure this is 
just the same as the first circus I ever saw. 
It grows more and more famiUar, and it puz- 
zles me to think they should not have altered 
in the least while I have changed so much, and 
have even had time to grow up. You don't 
know how it is making me remember other 
things of which I have not thought for years. 
I was seven years old when I went that first 
time. Uncle Jack invited me. I had a new 
parasol, and he laughed because I would 
hold it over my shoulder when the sun was 
in my face. He took me into the side-shows, 
and bought me everything I asked for on 
the way home, and we did not get home 
until twilight. The rest of the family had 
dined at five o'clock and gone out for a long 
drive, and it was such fun to have our dinner 
by ourselves. I sat at the head of the table 
in mamma's place ; and when Bridget came 
down and insisted that I must go to bed, 
Uncle Jack came softly up stairs and sat by 
the window, smoking and telling me stories. 
He ran and hid in the closet when we heard 
mamma coming up, and when she found him 
out by the cigar-smoke and made believe 
scold him, I thought she was in earnest, and 
begged him off. Yes ; and I remember that 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 167 

Bridget sat in the next room, making her 
new dress so she could wear it to church, 
next day. I thought it was a beautiful dress, 
and besought mamma to have one like it. 
It was bright geeen with yellow spots all 
over it," said Kate. "Ah, poor Uncle Jack ! 
he was so good to me ! We were always 
telling stories of what we would do when I 
was grown up and he came home from China. 
He died in Canton the next year, and I cried 
myself ill ; but for a long time I thought he 
might not be dead, after all, and might come 
home any day. He used to seem so old to 
me, and he really was just out of college and 
not so old as I am now. That day at the 
circus he had a pink rosebud in his button- 
hole, and — oh! when have I ever thought 
of this before ! — a woman sat before us who 
had a stiff little cape on her bonnet like a 
shelf, and I carefully put peanuts round the 
edge of it, and when she moved her head 
they would fall. I thought it was the best 
fun in the world, and I w^ished Uncle Jack to 
ride the donkey ; I was sure he could keep 
on, because his horse had capered about with 
him one day on Beacon Street, and I thought 
him a perfect rider, since nothing had hap= 
pened to him then." 

"I remember," said Mrs. Kew presently, 



l68 DEEPHAVEN 

" that just before I was married * he ' took 
me over to Wareham Corners to a caravan. 
My sister Hannah and the young man who 
was keeping company with her went too. 
I have n't been to one since till to-day, and it 
does carry me back same 's it does you, Miss 
Kate. It does n't seem more than five years 
ago, and what would I have thought if I had 
known 'he' and I were going to keep a 
lighthouse and be contented there, what 's 
more, and sometimes not get ashore for a 
fortnight ; settled, gray-headed old folks ! 
We were gay enough in those days. I know 
old Miss Sabrina Smith warned me that I 'd 
better think twice before I took up with 
Tom Kew, for he was a light-minded young 
man. I speak o' that to him in the winter- 
time, when he sets reading the almanac half 
asleep, and I 'm knitting, and the wind 's 
a-howling, and the waves coming ashore on 
those rocks as if they wished they could put 
out the light and blow down the lighthouse. 
We were reflected on a good deal for going 
to that caravan ; some of the old folks did n't 
think it was improvin' — Well, I should think 
that man was a-trying to break his neck ! " 

Coming out of the great tent was dis- 
agreeable enough, and we seemed to have 
chosen the worst time, for the crowd pushed 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 169 

fiercely, though I suppose nobody was in the 
least hurry, and we were all severely jammed, 
while from somewhere underneath came the 
wails of a deserted dog. We had not meant 
to see the side-shows, and went carelessly 
past two or three tents ; but when we came 
in sight of the picture of the Kentucky 
giantess, we noticed that Mrs. Kew looked 
at it wistfully, and we immediately asked if 
she cared anything about going to see the 
wonder, whereupon she confessed that she 
never heard of such a thing as a woman's 
weighing six hundred and fifty pounds, so we 
all three went in. There were only two or 
three persons inside the tent, beside a little 
boy who played the hand-organ. 

The Kentucky giantess sat in two chairs 
on a platform, and there was a large cage of 
monkeys just beyond, toward which Kate 
and I went at once. '' Why, she is n't more 
than two thirds as big the picture," said Mrs. 
Kew in a regretful whisper ; '^ but I guess 
she 's big enough ; does n't she look discour- 
aged, poor creatur' } " Kate and I felt 
ashamed of ourselves for being there. No 
matter if she had consented to be carried 
round for a show, it must have been horrible 
to be stared at and joked about day after 
day ; and we gravely looked at the monkeys. 



ryo DEEPIIAVEN 

and in a few minutes turned to see if Mrs. 
Kew were not ready to come away, when to 
our surprise we saw that she was talking to 
the giantess with great interest, and we went 
nearer. 

"■ I thought your face looked natural the 
minute I set foot inside the door," said Mrs. 
Kew; "but you've — altered some since I 
saw you, and I could n't place you till I heard 
you speak. Why, you used to be spare ; I am 
amazed, Marilly ! Where are your folks .? " 

" I don't wonder you are surprised," said 
the giantess. " I was a good ways from this 
when you knew me, was n't I } But father, 
he run through with every cent he had be- 
fore he died, and ' he ' took to drink, and it 
killed him after a while, and then I begun to 
grow worse and worse, till I could n't do 
nothing to earn a dollar, and everybody was 
a-coming to see me, till at last I used to ask 
strangers ten cents apiece, and I scratched 
along somehow till this man came round and 
heard of me, and he offered me my keep and 
good pay to go along with him. He had 
another giantess before me, but she had 
begun to fall away consider'ble, so he paid 
her off and let her go. This other giantess 
was an awful expense to him, she was such 
an eater; now I don't have no great of an 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 171 

appetite," — this was said plaintively, — " and 
he 's raised my pay since I 've been with him 
because we did so well. I took up with his 
offer because I was nothing but a drag and 
never will be. I 'm as comfortable as I can 
be, but it 's a pretty hard business. My old- 
est boy is able to do for himself, but he 's 
married this last year, and his wife don't 
want me. I don't know 's I blame her 
either. It would be something like if I had 
a daughter, now ; but there, I 'm getting to 
like traveling first-rate ; it gives anybody a 
good deal to think of." 

"■ I was asking the folks about you when I 
was up home the early part of the summer," 
said Mrs. Kew, "but all they knew was that 
you were living out in New York State. Have 
you been living in Kentucky long } I saw it 
on the picture outside." 

*'No," said the giantess, "that was a pic- 
ture the man bought cheap from another 
show that broke up last year. It says six 
hundred and fifty pounds, but I don't weigh 
more than four hundred. I have n't been 
weighed for some time past. Between you 
and me I don't weigh so much as that, but 
you must n't mention it, for it would spoil 
my reputation, and might hender my getting 
another engagement." And then the poor 



172 DEEPHAVEN 

giantess lost her professional look and tone 
as she said, '' I believe I 'd rather die than 
grow any bigger. I do lose heart some- 
times, and wish I was a smart woman and 
could keep house. I 'd be smarter than ever 
I was when I had the chance; I tell you 
that ! Is Thomas along with you ? " 

" No. I came with these young ladies, 
Miss Lancaster and Miss Denis, who are 
stopping over to Deephaven for the sum- 
mer." Kate and I turned as we heard this 
introduction ; we were standing close by, and 
I am proud to say that I never saw Kate 
treat any one more politely than she did that 
absurd, pitiful creature w^ith the gilt crown 
and many bracelets. It was not that she 
said much, but there was such an exquisite 
courtesy in her manner, and an apparent un- 
consciousness of there being anything in 
the least surprising or uncommon about the 
giantess. 

Just then a party of people came in, and 
Mrs. Kew said good-by reluctantly. '' It has 
done me sights of good to see you," said our 
new acquaintance. " I was feeling down- 
hearted just before you came in. I 'm 
pleased to see somebody that remembers 
me as I used to be." And they shook hands 
in a way that meant a great deal ; and when 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 173 

Kate and I said good afternoon, the giantess 
looked at us gratefully, and said, ''I'm very 
much obliged to you for coming in, young 
ladies." 

"Walk in ! walk in ! " the man was shout- 
ing as we came away. " Walk in and see 
the wonder of the world, ladies and gentle- 
men, — the largest woman ever seen in 
America, — the great Kentucky giantess!" 

"Would n't you have liked to stay longer .? " 
Kate asked Mrs. Kew as we came down the 
street. But she answered that it would be 
no satisfaction ; the people were coming in, 
and she would have no chance to talk. " I 
never knew her very well ; she is younger 
than I, and used to go to meeting where I 
did, but she lived five or six miles from our 
house. She 's had a hard time of it, accord- 
ing to her account," said Mrs. Kew. " She 
used to be a dreadful flighty, high-tempered 
girl, but she 's lost that now, I can see 
by her eye. I was running it over in my 
mind to see if there was anything I could do 
for her, but I don't know as there is. She 
said the man who hired her was kind. I 
guess your treating her so polite did her as 
much good as anything. She used to be 
real ambitious. I had it on my tongue's end 
to ask her if she could n't get a few days' 



174 DEEPHAVEN 

leave and come out to stop with me, but I 
thought just in time that she 'd sink the dory 
in a minute if she shifted quick. There ! 
seeing her has took away all the fun," said 
Mrs. Kew ruefully ; and we were all dismal 
for a while, but at last, after we were fairly 
started for home, we began to be merry 
again. 

We passed the Craper family, whom we 
had seen at the store in the morning; the 
children looked as stupid as ever, but the 
father, I am sorry to say, had been tempted 
to drink more bad whiskey than was good for 
him. He had a bright flush on his cheeks, 
and was flourishing his whip, and hoarsely 
singing some meaningless tune. "Poor crea- 
ture !" said I, ''I should think this day's pleas- 
uring would kill him." 

" Now, should n't you think so ? " said 
Mrs. Kew sympathizingly. '' But the truth 
is, you could n't kill one of them Crapers if 
you pounded him in a mortar." 

We had a pleasant drive home, and kept 
Mrs. Kew to supper, and afterward went 
down to the shore to see her set sail for 
home. Mr. Kew had come in some time 
before, and had been waiting for the moon 
to rise. Mrs. Kew told us that she should 
have enough to think of for a year, she had 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 175 

enjoyed the day so much ; and we stood on 
the pebbles, watching the boat out of the 
harbor, and wishing ourselves on board, it 
was such a beautiful evening. 

We went to another show that summer, 
the memory of which will never fade. It is 
somewhat impertinent to call it a show, and 
"public entertainment" is equally inappro- 
priate, though we certainly were entertained. 
It had been raining for two or three days ; 
the Deephaveners spoke of it as "a spell 
of weather." Just after tea one Thursday 
evening, Kate and I went down to the 
post-office. When we opened the great hall 
door, the salt air was delicious, but we found 
the town apparently wet through and dis- 
couraged ; and though it had almost stopped 
raining just then, there was a Scotch mist, 
like a snow-storm with the chill taken off, 
and the Chantrey elms dripped hurriedly, 
and creaked occasionally in the east wind. 

" There will not be a cap'n on the wharves 
for a week after this," said I to Kate; ''only 
think of the cases of rheumatism ! " 

We stopped for a few minutes at the 
Carews', who were as much surprised to see 
us as if we had been mermaids out of the 
sea, and begged us to give ourselves some- 
thing warm to drink, and to change our boots 



176 



DEEPHAVEN 



the moment we got home. Then we went 
on to the post-office. Kate went in, but 
stopped, as she came out with our letters, to 




read a written notice securely fastened to 
the grocery door by four large carpet-tacks 
with wide leathers round their necks. 

"Dear," said she exultantly, ''there 's going 
to be a lecture to-night in the church, — a 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 177 

free lecture on the ' Elements of True Man- 
hood.' Would n't you like to go ?" And we 
went. 

We were fifteen minutes later than the 
time appointed, and were sorry to find that 
the audience was almost imperceptible. 
The dampness had affected the antiquated 
lamps so that those on the walls and on the 
front of the gallery were the dimmest lights 
I ever saw, and sent their feeble rays through 
a small space the edges of which were clearly 
defined. There were two rather more ener- 
getic lights on the table near the pulpit, 
where the lecturer sat ; and as we were in 
the rear of the church, we could see the yel- 
low fog between ourselves and him. There 
were fourteen persons in the audience, and 
we were all huddled together in a cowardly 
way in the pews nearest the door : three old 
men, four women, and four children, besides 
ourselves and the sexton, a deaf little old 
man with a wooden leg. 

The children whispered noisily, and soon, 
to our surprise, the lecturer rose and began. 
He bowed, and treated us with beautiful 
deference, and read his dreary lecture with 
enthusiasm. I wish I could say, for his sake, 
that it was interesting ; but I cannot tell a 
lie, and it was so long ! He went on and on. 



178 DKEPHAVEN 

until it seemed as if I had been there ever 
since I was a little girl. Kate and I did not 
dare to look at each other, and in my desper- 
ation at feeling her quiver with laughter, I 
moved to the other end of the pew, knock- 
ing over a big hymn-book on the way, which 
attracted so much attention that I have 
seldom felt more embarrassed in my life. 
Kate's great dog rose several times to shake 
himself and yawn loudly, and then lie down 
again despairingly. 

You would have thought the man was ad- 
dressing an enthusiastic Young Men's Chris- 
tian Association. He exhorted with fervor 
upon our duties as citizens and as voters, and 
told us a great deal about George Washing- 
ton and Benjamin Franklin, whom he urged 
us to choose as our examples. He waited for 
applause after each of his outbursts of elo- 
quence, and presently went on again, in no 
wise disconcerted at the silence, and as if he 
were sure that he would fetch us next time. 
The rain began to fall again heavily, and the 
wind wailed around the meeting-house. If 
the lecture had been upon any other subject, 
it would not have been so hard for Kate and 
me to keep sober faces ; but it was directed 
entirely toward young men, and there was 
not a young man there. 



THE CIRCUS AT DENBY 179 

The children in front of us mildly scuffled 
with each other at one time, until the one 
at the end of the pew dropped a marble, 
which struck the floor and rolled with a 
frightful noise down the edge of the aisle 
where there was no carpet. The congrega- 
tion instinctively started up to look after it, 
but we recollected ourselves and leaned back 
again in our places, while the awed children, 
after keeping unnaturally quiet, fell asleep, 
and tumbled against each other helplessly. 
After a time the man sat down and wiped his 
forehead, looking well satisfied ; and when 
we were wondering whether we might with 
propriety come away, he rose again, and said 
it was a free lecture, and he thanked us for 
our kind patronage on that inclement night ; 
but in other places which he had visited 
there had been a contribution taken up for 
the cause. It would, perhaps, do no harm, 
— would the sexton — 

But the sexton could not have heard the 
sound of a cannon at that distance, and 
slumbered on. Neither Kate nor I had any 
money, except a twenty-dollar bill in my 
purse, and some coppers in the pocket of her 
water-proof cloak which she assured me she 
was prepared to give ; but we saw no signs 
of the sexton's w^aking, and as one of the 



l8o DEEPHAVEN 

women kindly went forward to wake the 
children, we all rose and came away. 

After we had made as much fun and 
laughed as long as we pleased that night, we 
became suddenly conscious of the pitiful 
side of it all ; and being anxious that every 
one should have the highest opinion of Deep- 
haven, we sent Tom Dockum early in the 
morning with an anonymous note to the lec- 
turer, whom he found without much trouble ; 
but afterward we were disturbed at hearing 
that he was going to repeat his lecture that 
evening, — the wind having gone round to 
the northwest, — and I have no doubt there 
were a good many women able to be out, and 
that he harvested enough ten-cent pieces to 
pay his expenses without our help ; though 
he had particularly told us it was for ''the 
cause," the evening before, and that ought 
to have been a consolation. 







Cunner- Fishing 

ONE of the chief pleasures in Deephaven 
was our housekeeping. Going to mar- 
ket was apt to use up a whole morning, es- 
pecially if we went to the fish-houses. We 
depended somewhat upon supplies from 
Boston, but sometimes we used to chase a 
butcher who took a drive in his old canvas- 
topped cart when he felt like it ; and as for 
fish, there were always enough to be caught, 
even if we could not buy any. Our acquaint- 
ances would often ask if we had anything 
for dinner that day, and would kindly sug- 
gest that somebody had been boiling lobsters, 
or that a boat had just come in with some 
nice mackerel, or that somebody over on the 
Ridge was calculating to kill a lamb, and we 
had better speak for a quarter in good sea- 



i82 DEEl'HAVEN 

son. I am afraid we were looked upon as 
being in danger of becoming epicures, which 
we certainly are not, and we undoubtedly 
roused a great deal of interest because we 
used to eat mushrooms, which grew in the 
suburbs of the town in wild luxuriance. 

One morning Maggie told us that there 
was nothing in the house for dinner, and, tak- 
ing an early start, we went at once down to 
the store to ask if the butcher had been seen, 
but finding that he had gone out deep-sea fish- 
ing for two days, and that when he came back 
he had planned to kill a veal, we left word for 
a sufficient piece of the doomed animal to be 
set apart for our family, and strolled down 
to the shore to see if we could find some 
mackerel ; but there was not a fisherman in 
sight, and after going to all the fish-houses 
we concluded that we had better provide for 
ourselves. We had not brought our own 
lines, but we knew where Danny kept his ; 
and after finding a basket of suitable size, 
and taking some clams from Danny's bait- 
tub, we went over to the hull of an old 
schooner which was going to pieces along- 
side one of the ruined wharves. We looked 
down the hatchway into the hold, and could 
see the flounders and sculpin swimming 
about lazily, and once in a while a little pol- 



CUNNER-FISHING 183 

lock scooted down among them impertinently 
and then disappeared. '' There is that same 
big flounder that we saw day before yester- 
day," said I. " I know him, because one of 
his fins is half gone. I don't believe he can 
get out, for the hole in the side of the 
schooner is n't very wide, and is higher up 
than flounders ever swim. Perhaps he came 
in when he was young, and was too lazy to 
go out until he was so large he could n't. 
Flounders always look so lazy, and as if they 
thought a great deal of themselves." 

" I hope they will think enough of them- 
selves to keep away from my hook this morn- 
ing," said Kate philosophically, *'and the 
sculpin too. I am going to fish for cunners 
alone, and keep my line short." And she 
perched herself on the quarter, baited her 
hook carefully, and threw it over, with a 
clam-shell to call attention. I went to the 
rail at the side, and we were presently much 
encouraged by pulling up two small cunners, 
and felt that our prospects for dinner were 
excellent. Then I unhappily caught so large 
a sculpin that it was like pulling up an open 
umbrella ; and after I had thrown him into 
the hold to keep company with the flounder, 
our usual good luck seemed to desert us. It 
was one of the days when, in spite of twitch- 



l84 DEEPHAVEN 

ing the line and using all the tricks we could 
think of, the cunners would either eat our 
bait or keep away altogether. Kate at last 
said we must starve unless we could catch the 
big flounder, and asked me to drop my hook 
down the hatchway; but it seemed almost 
too bad to destroy his innocent happiness. 
Just then we heard the noise of oars, and to 
our delight saw Cap'n Sands in his dory just 
beyond the next wharf. " Any luck .?" said 
he. " S'pose ye don't care anything about 
going out this morning ? " 

"We are not amusing ourselves; we are 
trying to catch some fish for dinner," said 
Kate. " Could you wait out by the red buoy 
while we get a few more, and then should 
you be back by noon, or are you going for a 
longer voyage, Captain Sands ? " 

*' I was going out to Black Rock for cun- 
ners myself," said the cap'n. '' I should be 
pleased to take ye, if ye'd like to go." So 
we wound up our lines, and took our basket 
and clams, and went round to meet the boat. 
I felt like rowing, and took the oars while 
Kate was mending her sinker and the cap'n 
was busy with a snarled line. 

"It's pretty hot," said he presently, "but 
I see a breeze coming in, and the clouds seem 
to be thickening ; I guess we shall have 



CUNNER-FISHING 185 

it cooler 'long towards noon. It looked last 
night as if we were going to have foul 
weather, but the scud seemed to blow off, 
and it was as pretty a morning as ever I see. 
* A growing moon chaws up the clouds,' my 
gran'ther used to say. He was as knowing 
about the weather as anybody I ever come 
across ; 'most always hit it just about right. 
Some folks lay all the weather to the moon, 
accordin' to where she quarters, and when 
she 's in perigee we 're going to have this 
kind of weather, and when she 's in apogee 
she 's got to do so and so for sartain ; but 
gran'ther, he used to laugh at all them things. 
He said it never made no kind of difference, 
and he went by the looks of the clouds and 
the feel of the air, and he thought folks 
could n't make no kind of rules that held 
good, that had to do with the moon. Well, 
he did use to depend on the moon some ; 
everybody knows we aren't so likely to have 
foul weather in a growing moon as we be 
when she 's waning. But some folks I could 
name, they can't do nothing without having 
the moon's opinion on it. When I went my 
second voyage afore the mast, we was in port 
ten days at Cadiz, and the ship, she needed 
salting dreadful. The mate kept telling the 
captain how low the salt was in her, and we 



1 86 DEEPHAVEN 

was going a long voyage from there ; but no, 
he would n't have her salted nohow, because 
it was the wane of the moon. He was an 
amazing set kind of man, the cap'n was, and 
would have his own way on sea or shore. The 
mate was his own brother, and they used to 
fight like a cat and dog ; they owned most of 
the ship between 'em. I was slushing the 
mizzen-mast, and heard 'em a-disputin' about 
the salt. The cap'n was a first-rate seaman 
and died rich, but he was dreadful notional. 
I know one time we were a-lyin' out in the 
stream all ready to weigh anchor, and every- 
thing was in trim, the men were up in the 
rigging, and a fresh breeze going out, just 
what we 'd been waiting for, and the word 
was jDassed to take in sail and make every- 
thing fast. The men swore, and everybody 
said the cap'n had had some kind of a warn- 
ing. But that night it began to blow, and I 
tell you afore morning we were glad enough 
we were in harbor. The old Victor, she 
dragged her anchor, and the fore-to'-gallant 
sail and r'yal got loose somehow and was 
blown out of the bolt-ropes. Most of the 
canvas and rigging was old, but we had first- 
rate weather after that, and did n't bend near 
all the new sail we had aboard, though the 
cap'n was 'most afraid we 'd come short when 



CUNNER-FISHING 187 

we left Boston. That was 'most sixty year 
ago," said the captain reflectively. " How 
time does slip away ! You young folks 
have n't any idea. She was a first-rate ship, 
the old Victor was, though I suppose she 
would n't cut much of a dash now 'longside 
of some of the new clippers. 

"There used to be some strange-looking 



1 1 






^^^^"^ " ~-'—-^—--- .^ 



I 



T/ie Hanna/i 



crafts in those days ; there was the old brig 
Hannah, They used to say she would sail 
backwards as fast as forwards ; and she was 
so square in the bows, they used to call her 
the sugar-box. She was master old, the 
Hannah was, and there was n't a port from 



l88 DEEPHAVEN 

here to New Orleans where she was n't 
known ; she used to carry a master cargo for 
her size, more than some ships that ranked 
two hundred and fifty ton, and she was put 
down for two hundred. She used to make 
good voyages, the Hannah did ; and then 
there was the Pactolus, she was just about 
such another, — you would have laughed to 
see her. She sailed out of this port for a 
good many years. Cap'n Wall, he told me 
that if he had her before the wind with a 
cargo of cotton, she would make a middling 
good run ; but load her deep with salt, and 
you might as well try to sail a stick of oak 
timber with a handkerchief. She was a stout- 
built ship : I should n't wonder if her timbers 
were afloat somewhere yet; she was sold to 
some parties out in San Francisco. There ! 
everything's changed from what it was when 
I used to follow the sea. I wonder some- 
times if the sailors have as queer works 
aboard ship as they used. Bless ye ! Deep- 
haven used to be a different place to what it 
is now ; there was hardly a day in the year 
that you did n't hear the shipwrights' ham- 
mers, and there was always something going 
on at the wharves. You would see the folks 
from up country comin' in with their loads of 
oak knees and plank, and logs o' rock-maple 



CUNNER-FISHING 189 

for keels when there was snow on the ground 
in winter-tmie, and the big sticks of timber- 
pine for masts wofild come crawling along the 
road with their three and four yoke of oxen 
all frosted up, the sleds creaking and the 
snow growling and the men flapping their 
arms to keep warm, and hallooing as if there 
wa'n't nothin' else goin' on in the world 
except to get them masts to the ship-yard. 
Bless ye ! two o' them teams together would 
stretch from here 'most up to the Widow 
Jim's place, — no such timber-pines nowa- 
days." 

"I suppose the sailors are very jolly to- 
gether sometimes," said Kate meditatively, 
with the least flicker of a smile at me. The 
captain did not answer for a minute, as he 
was battling with an obstinate snarl in his 
line ; but when he had found the right loop, 
he said : " I Ve had the best times and the 
hardest times of my life at sea, that 's cer- 
tain ! I was just thinking it over when you 
spoke. I '11 tell you some tales one day or 
'nother that'll please you. Land! you've 
no idea what tricks some of those wild fel- 
lows will be up to. Now, saying they fetch 
home a cargo of wines and they want a 
drink ; they 've got a trick so they can get it. 
Saying it 's champagne, they '11 fetch up a 



IQO DEEPHAVEN 

basket, and how do you suppose they '11 get 
into it ? " 

Of course we did n't know. 

" Well, every basket will be counted, and 
they 're fastened up particular, so they can 
tell in a minute if they 've been tampered 
with ; and neither must you draw the corks 
if you could get the basket open. I suppose 
ye may have seen champagne, how it's all 
wired and waxed. Now, they take a clean 
tub, them fellows do, and just shake the bas- 
ket and jounce it up and down till they break 
the bottles and let the wine drain out ; then 
they take it down in the hold and put it back 
with the rest, and when the cargo is delivered 
there 's only one or two whole bottles in that 
basket, and there 's a dreadful fuss about its 
being stowed so foolish." The captain told 
this with an air of great satisfaction, but we 
did not show the least suspicion that he 
might have assisted at some such festivity. 

"Then they have a smart way of breaking 
into a cask. It won't do to start the bung, 
and it won't do to bore a hole where it can 
be seen, but they 're up to that : they slip back 
one of the end hoops and bore two holes un- 
derneath it, — one for the air to go in and 
one for the liquor to come out, — and after 
they get all out they want, they put in some 



CUNNER-FISHING 191 

spigots and cut them down close to the stave, 
knock back the hoop again, and there ye are, 
all trig." 

" I never should have thought of it," said 
Kate admiringly. 

"There isn't nothing," Cap'n Sands went 
on, "that'll hender some masters from cheat- 
ing the owners a little. Get them off in a 
foreign port, and there 's nobody to watch, 
and the most of them have a feeling that 
they ain't getting full pay, and they '11 charge 
things to the ship that she never seen nor 
heard of. There were two shipmasters that 
sailed out of Salem. I heard one of 'em tell 
the story. They had both come into port 
from Liverpool nigh the same time, and one 
of 'em, he was dressed up in a handsome suit 
of clothes, and the other looked kind of 
poverty-struck. * Where did you get them 
clothes .'' ' says he. ' Why, to Liverpool,' says 
the other ; 'you don't meant to say you come 
away without none, cheap as cloth was there } ' 
'Why, yes,' says the other cap'n; 'I can't 
afford to wear such clothes as those be, and I 
don't see how you can, either.' * Charge *em 
to the ship, bless ye ; the owners expect it.' 

" So the next v'y'ge the poor cap'n, he had 
a nice double rig for himself made to the 
best tailor's in Bristol, and charged it, say 



192 DEEPHAVEN 

ten pounds, in the ship's account ; and when 
he came home, the ship's husband, he was 
looking over the papers, and * What 's this ? ' 
says he, ' how come the ship to run up a 
tailor's bill ? ' ' Why, them 's mine,' says the 
cap'n, very meaching. ' I onderstood that 
there would n't be no objection made.' ' Well, 
you made a mistake,' says the other, laugh- 
ing ; 'guess I'd better scratch this out.' 
And it was n't long before the cap'n met the 
one who had put him up to doing it, and he 
give him a blowing up for getting him into 
such a fix. ' Land sakes alive ! ' says he, 
' were you fool enough to set it down in the 
account .'* Why, I put mine in for so many 
bolts of Russia duck.' " 

Captain Sands seemed to enjoy this remi- 
niscence, and to our satisfaction, in a few 
minutes, after he had offered to take the 
oars, he went on to tell us another story. 

'' Why, as for cheating, there 's plenty of 
that all over the world. The first v'y'ge I 
went into Havana as master of the Deer- 
hound, she had never been in the port be- 
fore, and had to be measured and recorded, 
and then pay her tonnage duties every time 
she went into port there afterward, according 
to what she was registered on the custom- 
house books. The inspector, he come aboard, 



CUNNER-FISHING 



T93 



and he went below and looked all round, and 
he measured her between decks ; but he 
never offered to set down any figgers, and 




ri^ 



M-*-^ 



The L ighthoHse 

when we came back into the cabin, says he, 
* Yes — yes — good ship ! you put one doub- 
loon front of this eye, so /' says he, 'an' I not 
see with him ; and you put one more doub- 
loon front of other eye, and how you think I 
see at all what figger you write ? ' So I took 
his book and I set down her measurements, 
and made her out twenty ton short, and he 
took his doubloons and shoved 'm into his 
pocket. There, it is n't what you call straight 
dealing, but everybody done it that dared, and 
you 'd eat up all the profits of a v'y'ge, and 



194 DEEPHAVEN 

the owners would just as soon you'd try a 
little up-country air, if you paid all those 
dues according to law. Tonnage was dread- 
ful high, and wharfage, too, in some ports, 
and they 'd get your last cent some way or 
'nother if ye were n't sharp. 

" Old Cap'n Carew, uncle to them ye see 
to meethig, did a smart thing in the time of 
the embargo. Folks got tired of it, and it 
was dreadful hard times — ships rotting at 
the wharves ; and Deephaven never was quite 
the same afterward, though the old place 
held out for a good while before she let go 
as ye see her now. You 'd 'a' had a hard grip 
on 't when I was a young man to make me 
believe it would ever be so dull here. Well, 
Cap'n Carew, he bought an old brig that was 
lying over by East Parish, and he began 
fitting her up and loading her for the West 
Indies ; and the farmers they 'd come in there 
by night from all round the country, to sell 
salt-fish and lumber and potatoes, and glad 
enough they were, I tell ye. The rigging 
was put in order, and it was n't long before 
she was ready to sail, and it was all kept 
mighty quiet. She lay up to an old w^harf 
in a cove where she would n't be much 
noticed, and they took care not to paint her 
any or to attract any attention. 



CUNNER-FISHIXG 195 

"One day Cap'n Carew was over in River- 
port dining out with some gentlemen, and 
the revenue officer sat next to him, and by 
and by says he, ' Why won't ye take a ride 
with me this afternoon ? I 've had warning 
that there 's a brig loading for the West 
Indies over beyond Deephaven somewheres, 
and I 'm going over to seize her.' And he 
laughed to himself as if he expected fun, 
and something in his pocket beside. Well, 
the first minute that Cap'n Carew dared, 
after dinner, he slipped out, and he hired the 
swiftest horse in Riverport and rode for dear 
life, and told the folks who were in the secret 
and some who were n't what was the matter, 
and every soul turned to and helped finish 
loading her and getting the rigging ready 
and the water aboard ; but just as they were 
leaving the cove — the wind was blowing 
just right — along came the revenue officer 
with two or three men, and they came off 
in a boat and boarded her as important as 
could be. 

" ' Won't ye step into the cabin, gentle- 
men, and take a glass o' wine ? ' says Cap'n 
Carew, very polite ; and the wind came in 
fresher, — something like a squall for a few 
minutes, — and the men had the sails spread 
before you could say Jack Robi'son ; and 



196 DEEPHAVEN 

before those fellows knew what they were 
about, the old brig was a-standing out to 
sea, and the folks on the wharves cheered 
and yelled. The cap'n gave the officers a 
good scare and offered 'em a free passage to 
the West Indies, and finally they said they 
would n't report at headquarters if he 'd let 
'em go ashore. So he told the sailors to 
lower their boat about two miles off Deep- 
haven, and they pulled ashore meek enough. 
Cap'n Carew had a first-rate run, and made a 
lot of money, so I have heard it said. Bless 
ye ! every shipmaster would have done just 
the same if he had dared, and everybody was 
glad when they heard about it. Dreadful 
foolish piece of business that embargo was ! 

" Now I declare," said Captain Sands, 
after he had finished this narrative, "here 
I 'm a-telling stories and you 're doin' all the 
work. You '11 pull a boat ahead of anybody 
if you keep on. Tom Kew was a-praisin' 
up both of you to me the other day ; says 
he, * They don't put on no airs, but I tell ye 
they can pull a boat well, and swim like fish,' 
says he. There, now, if you '11 give me the 
oars, I '11 put the dory just where I want her, 
and you can be getting your lines ready. I 
know a place here where it 's always toler'ble 
fishing, and I guess we '11 get something." 



CUNNER-FISHING 197 

Kate and I cracked our clams on the gun- 
wale of the boat, and cut them into nice 
little bits for bait with a piece of the shell ; 
and by the time the captain had thrown out 
the killick we were ready to begin, and found 
the fishing much more exciting than it had 
been at the wharf. 

" I don't know as I ever see 'em bite 
faster," said the old sailor presently ; "guess 
it 's because they like the folks that 's fish- 
ing. Well, I 'm pleased. I thought I 'd let 
'Bijah take some along to Denby in the cart 
to-morrow, if I got more than I could use at 
home. I did n't calc'late on having such a 
lively crew aboard. I s'pose ye would n't 
care about going out a little further by and 
by, to see if we can't get two or three had- 
dock?" And we answered that we should 
like nothing better. 

It was growing cloudy, and was much 
cooler, — the perfection of a day for fish- 
ing, — and we sat there diligently pulling 
in cunners, and talking a little once in a 
while. The tide was nearly out, and Black 
Rock looked almost large enough to be 
called an island. The sea was smooth, and 
the low waves broke lazily among the sea- 
weed-covered ledges, while our boat swayed 
about on the water, lifting and falling gently 



198 DEEPHAVEN 

as the waves went in shore. We were not a 
very long way from the lighthouse, and once 
we could see Mrs. Kevv's big white apron 
as she stood in the doorway for a few min- 
utes. There was no noise except the plash 
of the low-tide waves and the occasional 
flutter of a fish in the bottom of the dory. 
Kate and I always killed our fish at once by 
a rap on the head, for it certainly saved the 
poor creatures much discomfort, and our- 
selves as well, and it made it easier to take 
them ofi" the hook than if they were flopping 
about and making us aware of our cruelty. 

Suddenly the captain wound up his line 
and said he thought we 'd better be going in, 
and Kate and I looked at him with surprise. 
'' It is only half-past ten," said I, looking at 
my watch. *' Don't hurry in on our account," 
added Kate persuasively, for we were having 
a very good time. 

"I guess we won't mind about the had- 
dock. I 've got a feelin' we 'd better go 
ashore." And he looked up into the sky and 
turned to see the west. " I knew there was 
something the matter ; there 's going to be a 
shower." And we looked behind us to see a 
bank of heavy clouds coming over fast. " I 
wish we had two pair of oars," said Captain 
Sands. I 'm afraid we shall get caught." 



CUNNER-FISHING 20i 

"You need n't mind us," said Kate. ''We 
are n't in the least afraid of our clothes, 
and we don't get cold when we 're wet ; we 
have made sure of that." "Well, I 'm glad 
to hear that," said the cap'n. " Women- 
folks are apt to be dreadful scared of a wet- 
ting ; but I 'd just as lief not get wet myself. 
I had a twinge of rheumatism yesterday. 
I guess we '11 get ashore fast enough. No, 
I feel well enough to-day, but you can row 
if you want to, and I '11 take the oars the last 
part of the way." 

When we reached the moorings, the clouds 
were black, and the thunder rattled and 
boomed over the sea, while heavy spatters 
of rain were already falling. We did not go 
to the wharves, but stopped down the shore 
at the fish-houses, the nearer place of shelter. 
"You just select some of those cunners," 
said the captain, who was beginning to be a 
little out of breath, " and then you can run 
right up and get under cover, and I '11 put 
a bit of old sail over the rest of the fish to 
keep the fresh water off." By the time the 
boat touched the shore and we had pulled 
it up on the pebbles, the rain had begun in 
good earnest. Luckily there was a barrow 
lying near, and we loaded that in a hurry, 
and just then the captain caught sight of a 



202 DEEPHAVEN 

well-known red shirt in an open door, and 
shouted, '' Halloa, Danny ! lend us a hand 
with these fish, for we 're nigh on to being 
shipwrecked." And then we ran up to the 
fish-house and waited awhile, though we 
stood in the doorway watching the lightning, 
and there were so many leaks in the roof that 
we might almost as well have been out of 
doors. It was one of Danny's quietest days, 
and he silently beheaded hake, only winking 
at us once very gravely at something our 
other companion said. 

" There ! " said Captain Sands, '* folks may 
say what they have a mind to ; I did n't see 
that shower coming up, and I know as well 
as I want to that my wife did, and impressed 
it on my mind. Our house sets high, and 
she watches the sky, and is al'ays a -worry- 
ing when I go out fishing, for fear some- 
thing 's going to happen to me, 'specially 
sence I 've got to be along in years." 

This was just what Kate and I wished to 
hear, for we had been told that Captain 
Sands had most decided opinions on dreams 
and other mysteries, and could tell some 
stories which were considered incredible by 
even a Deephaven audience, to whom the 
marvelous was of every-day occurrence. 

"Then it has happened before.?" asked 



CUNNER-FISHING 



Kate. "I wondered why you 
suddenly to come in." 

" Happened ! " said the captain 



203 
started so 



Bless 



ye, yes ! I '11 tell you my views about these 
p'ints one o' those days. I 've thought a 
good deal about 'em by spells. Not that I 
can explain 'em, nor anybody else; but it 's 
no use to laugh at 'em, as some folks do. 
Cap'n Lant — you know Cap'n Lant } — he 
and I have talked it over 
consider' ble, and he says 
to me, ' Everybody 's got 
some story of the kind 
they will believe in spite 
of everything, and 
yet they won't believe 
yourn.' " 

The shower seemed 
to be over now, and we 
felt compelled to go 
home, as the captain did 
not go on with his re- 
marks. I hope he did 
not see Danny's wink. 
Skipper Scudder, w h o 
was Danny's friend and 
partner, came up just 
then and asked us if we knew what the sign 
was when the sun came out through the rain. 




Skipper Sciuidir 



204 DEEPHAVEN 

I said that I had always heard it would rain 
again next day. " Oh no," said Skipper 
Scudder, " the Devil is beating his wife." 

After dinner, Kate and I went for a walk 
through some pine woods, which were beau- 
tiful after the rain ; the mosses and lichens 
which had been dried up were all freshened 
and blooming out in the dampness. The 
smell of the wet pitch-pines was unusually 
sweet; and we wandered about for an hour 
or two there, to find some ferns we wanted, 
and then walked over toward East Parish, 
and home by the long beach late in the 
afternoon. We came as far as the boat-land- 
ing, meaning to go home through the lane ; 
but to our delight we saw Captain Sands 
sitting alone on an old overturned whale- 
boat, whittling busily at a piece of dried kelp. 
''Good evenin'," said our friend cheerfully. 
And we explained that we had taken a long 
walk and thought we would rest awhile be- 
fore we went home to supper. Kate perched 
herself on the boat, and I sat down on a ship's 
knee which lay on the pebbles. 

" Did n't get any hurt from being out in 
the shower, I hope .'* " 

"No, indeed," laughed Kate, ''and we had 
such a good time. I hope you won't mind 
taking us out again some time." 



CUNNER-FISHING 205 

"Bless ye! no," said the captain. "My 
girl Lo'isa, she that 's Mis' Winslow over to 
Riverport, used to go out with me a good 
deal, and it seemed natural to have you 
aboard. I missed Lo'isa after she got mar- 
ried, for she was al'ays ready to go anywhere 
'long of father. She 's had slim health of late 
years. I tell 'em she 's been too much shut 
up out of the fresh air and sun. When she 
was young her mother never could pr'vail on 
her to set in the house stiddy and sew, and 
she used to have great misgivin's that Lo'isa 
never was going to be capable. How about 
those fish you caught this morning.'' good, 
were they ? Mis' Sands had dinner on the 
stocks when I got home, and she said she 
would n't fry any 'til supper-time ; but I 
calc'lated to have 'em this noon. I like 'em 
best right out o' the water. Little more and 
we should have got them wet. That 's one 
of my whims ; I can't bear to let fish get 
rained on." 

" O Captain Sands ! " said I, thefe being a 
convenient pause, "you were speaking of 
your wife just now; did you ask her if she 
saw the shower ? " 

" First thing she spoke of when I got into 
the house. ' There,' says she, ' I was afraid 
you wouldn't see the rain coming in time. 



2o6 DEEPHAVEN 

and I had my heart in my mouth when it be- 
gan to thunder. I thought you 'd get soaked 
through, and be laid up for a fortnight,* says 
she. ' I guess a summer shower w^on't hurt 
an old sailor like me,' says I." And the 
captain reached for another piece of his kelp- 
stalk, and whittled away more busily than 
ever. Kate took out her knife and also be- 
gan to cut kelp, and I threw pebbles in the 
hope of hitting a spider which sat compla- 
cently on a stone not far away ; and when he 
suddenly vanished, there was nothing for me 
to do but to whittle kelp also. 

"Do you suppose," said Kate, "that Mrs. 
Sands really made you know about that 
shower ? " 

The captain put on his most serious look, 
coughed slowly, and moved himself a few 
inches nearer us, along the boat. I think he 
fully understood the importance and solem- 
nity of the occasion. " It ain't for us to say 
what we do know or don't, for there 's nothing 
sartain ; but I made up my mind long ago that 
there's something about these p'ints that 's 
myster'ous. My wnfe and me will be sitting 
there to home, and there won't be no word 
between us for an hour, and then of a sud- 
den we '11 speak up about the same thing. 
Now the way I view it, she either puts it into 



CUNNER-FISHING 207 

my head or I into hers. I 've spoke up lots 
of times about something, when I didn't 
know what I was going to say when I began, 
and she 'II say she was just thinking of that. 
Like as not you have noticed it sometimes } 
There was something my mind was dwellin' 
on yesterday, and she come right out with it, 
and I 'd a good deal rather she hadn't," said 
the captain ruefully. " I didn't want to rake 
it all over ag'in, / 'm sure." And then he 
recollected himself, and was silent, which his 
audience must confess to have regretted for 
a moment. 

"I used to think a good deal about such 
things when I was younger, and I 'm free to 
say I took more stock in dreams and such like 
than I do now. I rec'lect old Parson Lori- 
mer — this Parson Lorimer's father who was 
settled here first — spoke to me once about 
it, and said it was a tempting of Providence, 
and that we had n't no right to pry into se- 
crets. I know I had a dream -book then, that 
I picked up in a shop in Bristol once when I 
was in there on the Ranger, and all the young 
folks were beset to get sight of it. I see what 
fools it made of folks, bothering their heads 
about such things, and I pretty much let them 
go ; all this stuff about spirit-rappings is 
enough to make a man crazy. You don't get 



2o8 DEEPHAVEN 

no good by it. I come across a paper once 
with a lot of letters in it from sperits, and I 
cast my eye over 'em, and I say to myself, 
' Well, I always was given to understand that 
when we come to a futur' state we was goin* 
to have more wisdom than we can get afore ; ' 
but them letters had n't any more sense to 
'em, nor so much, as a man could write here 
without schooling ; and I should think that if 
the folks who wrote 'em had any kind of am- 
bition, they 'd want to be movin' back here 
again. But as for one person's having some- 
thing to do with another any distance off, 
why, that 's another thing ; there ain't any 
nonsense about that. I know it's true jest 
as well as I want to," said the cap'n, warming 
up. " I '11 tell ye how I was led to make up 
my mind about it. One time I waked a man 
up out of a sound sleep looking at him, and 
it set me to thinking. First, there was n't 
any noise, and then, ag'in, there was n't any 
touch so he could feel it, and I says to my- 
self, * Why couldn't I ha' done it the width of 
two rooms as well as one, and why could n't 
I ha' done it with my back turned ? ' It 
could n't have been the looking so much as 
the thinking. And then I car'd it further, 
and I says, * Why ain't a mile as good as a 
yard .■* and it 's the thinking that does it,' 



CUNNER-FISHING 209 

says I, ' and we 've got some faculty or other 
that we don't know much about. We 've 
got some way of sending our thought like 
a bullet goes out of a gun, and it hits and 
we can kind of hear what other folks is 
thinking of. We don't know nothing ex- 
cept what we see. And some folks is scared, 
and more thinks it is all nonsense and 
laughs. But there 's something we have n't 
got the hang of.' It makes me think o' 
them little black polliwogs that turns into 
frogs in the fresh-water puddles in the ma'sh. 
There 's a time before their tails drop off and 
their legs have sprouted out, but they don't 
get any use o' their legs, and I dare say 
they 're in their way consider'ble ; but after 
they get to be frogs they find out what 
they 're for without no kind of trouble. I 
guess we shall turn these fac'lties to account 
some time or 'nother. Seems to me, though, 
that we might depend on 'em now more than 
we do." 

The captain was under full sail on what we 
had heard was his pet subject, and it was a 
great satisfaction to listen to what he had to 
say. It loses a great deal in being written, 
for the old sailor's voice and gestures and 
thorough earnestness all carried no little per- 
suasion. And it was impossible not to be sure 



2IO DEEPHAVEN 

that he knew more than people usually do 
about these mysteries in which he delighted. 
*' Now, how can you account for this ? " 
said he. " I remember not more than ten 
years ago my son's wife was stopping at our 
house, and she had left her child at home 
while she come away for a rest. And after 
she had been there two or three days, one 
morning she was sitting in the kitchen 'long 
o' the folks, and all of a sudden she jumped 
out of her chair and ran into the bedroom, 
and next minute she come out laughing, and 
looking kind of scared. ' I could ha' taken 
my oath,' says she, * that I heard Katy cryin' 
out mother!' says she, 'just as if she was 
hurt. I heard it so plain that before I stopped 
to think it seemed as if she were right in the 
next room. I 'm afeard something has hap- 
pened.' But the folks laughed, and said she 
must ha' heard one of the lambs. * No, it 
wasn't,' says she; 'it was my Katy.' And 
sure enough, just after dinner a young man 
who lived neighbor to her come riding into 
the yard post-haste to get her to go home ; for 
the baby had pulled some hot water over on to 
herself, and was nigh scalded to death, and 
cryin' for her mother every minute. Now, 
who 's going to explain that } It was n't any 
common hearing that heard that child's cryin' 



CUNNER-FISHIXG 213 

fifteen miles. And I can tell you another 
thing that happened among my own folks. 
There was an own cousin of mine married to 
a man by the name of John Hathorn. He 
was trading up to Parsonsfield, and business 
run down, so he wound up there, and thought 
he 'd make a new start. He moved down to 
Denby ; and while he was getting under way, 
he left his family up to the old place, and at 
the time I speak of was going to move 'em 
down in about a fortnight. 

" One morning his wife was fidgeting 
round, and finally she came downstairs with 
her bonnet and shawl on, and said some- 
body must put the horse right into the wagon 
and take her down to Denby. ' Why, what 
for, mother.'^' they says. 'Don't stop to 
talk,' says she; 'your father is sick, and 
wants me. It 's been a-worrying me since 
before day, and I can't stand it no longer.' 
And the short of the story is that she kept 
hurrying 'em faster and faster, and then she 
got hold of the reins herself, and when they 
got within five miles of the place the horse 
fell dead, and she was nigh about crazy, and 
they took another horse at a farm-house on 
the road. It was the spring of the year, and 
the going was dreadful, and when they got 
to the house John Hathorn had just died, and 



2 14 DEEPHAVEN 

he had been calling for his wife up to 'most 
the last breath he drew. He had been taken 
sick sudden the day before ; but the folks 
knew it was bad traveling, and that she was 
a feeble woman to come near thirty miles, 
and they had no idee he was so bad off. 
I 'm telling you the living truth," said Cap- 
tain Sands, with an emphatic shake of his 
head. *' There 's more folks than me can tell 
about it ; and if you were goin' to keel-haul 
me next minute, and hang me to the yard- 
arm afterward, I could n't say it different. I 
was up to Parsonsfield to the funeral ; it was 
just after I quit following the sea. I never 
saw a woman so broke down as she was. 
John was a nice man, stiddy and pleasant- 
spoken, and straightforrard and kind to his 
folks. He belonged to the Odd Fellows, 
and they all marched to the funeral. There 
was a good deal of respect shown him, I 
tell ye. 

"There is another story I 'd like to have 
ye hear, if it 's so that you ain't beat out 
hearing me talk. When I get going, I slip 
along as easy as a schooner wing-and~wing 
afore the wind. 

"This happened to my own father, but I 
never heard him say much about it ; never 
could get him to talk it over to any length, 



CUNXER-FISHING 215 

best I could do. But gran'ther, his father, 
told me about it nigh upon fifty times, 
first and last, and always the same way. 
Gran'ther lived to be old, and there was 
ten or a dozen years after his wife died 
that he lived year and year about with Uncle 
Tobias's folks and our folks. Uncle Tobias 
lived over on the Ridge. I got home from 
my first v'y'ge as mate of the Daylight just 
in time for his funeral. I was disapp'inted 
to find the old man was gone. I 'd fetched 
him some first-rate tobacco, for he was a 
great hand to smoke, and I was calc'latin' on 
his being pleased : old folks like to be 
thought of, and then he set more by me than 
by the other boys. I know I used to be 
sorry for him when I was a little fellow. My 
father's second wife, she was a well-meaning 
woman, but an awful driver with her work, 
and she was always making of him feel he 
was n't no use. I do' know as she meant to, 
either. He never said nothing, and he was 
always just so pleasant, and he was fond of 
his book, and used to set round reading, and 
tried to keep himself out of the way just 
as much as he could. There was one winter 
when I was small that I had the scarlet- 
fever, and was very slim for a long time after- 
ward, and I used to keep along o' gran'ther. 



2i6 DEEPHAVEN 

and he would tell me his old stories. 
Father 'd been a sailor, — it runs in our 
blood to foller the sea, — and he 'd been 
wrecked two or three times and been taken 
by the Algerine pirates, but he 'd never tell 
us things like gran 'then You remind me 
to tell you some time about the pirates. I 
wonder if you ever heard about old Citizen 
Leigh, that used to be about here when I 
was a boy. He was taken by the Algerines 
once, same 's father, and they was dread- 
ful ferce just then, and they sent him home 
to get the ransom money for the crew ; but 
it was a monstrous price they asked, and the 
owners would n't give it to him, for they 
s'posed likely the men was dead by that 
time, any way. Old Citizen Leigh, he went 
crazy, and used to go about the streets with 
a bundle of papers in his hands year in and 
year out. I 've seen him a good many times. 
Gran'ther used to tell me how he escaped. 
I '11 remember it for ye some day if you '11 
put me in mind. 

** I got to be mate when I was twenty, and 
I was as strong a fellow as you could scare 
up, and darin' ! — why, it makes my blood 
run cold when I think of the reckless things 
I used to do. I was off to sea after I was 
fifteen year old, and there was n't anybody 



CUNNER-FISHING 217 

SO glad to see me as gran'ther when I came 
home. I expect he used to be lonesome after 
I went off, but then his mmd failed him 
quite a while before he died. Father was 
clever to him, and he 'd get him anything he 
spoke about ; but he was n't a man to set 
round and talk, and he never took notice 
himself when gran'ther was out of tobacco, 
so sometimes it would be a day or two. I 
know better how he used to feel now that 
I 'm getting to be along in years myself, and 
likely to be some care to the folks before long. 
I never could bear to see old folks neglected ; 
nice old men and women who have worked 
hard in their day and been useful and willin'. 
I 've seen 'em many a time when they 
could n't help knowing that the folks would 
a little rather they 'd be in heaven, and a 
good respectable headstone put up for 'em in 
the burying-ground. 

" Well, now, I 'm sure I 've forgot what I 
was going to tell you. Oh, yes ; about grand- 
mother dreaming about father when he come 
home from sea. Well, to go back to the 
first of it, gran'ther never was rugged ; he 
was to Valley Forge that winter in the Revo- 
lutionary War, an' got the rheumatism fas- 
tened on to him when he was a young man, 
and though he lived to be so old, he never 



2i8 DEEPHAVEN 

could work hard, and never got forehanded ; 
and Aunt Hannah Starbird, over at East 
Parish, took my sister to fetch up, because 
she was named for her, and Melinda and 
Tobias stayed at home with the old folks, 
and my father went to live with an uncle 
over in Riverport, whom he was named for. 
He was in the West India trade and was 
well off, and he had no children of his own, so 
they expected he would do well by father. 
He was dreadful high-tempered. I 've heard 
say he had the worst temper that was ever 
raised in Deephaven. 

" One day he set father to putting some 
cherries into a bar'l of rum, and went off down 
to his wharf to see to the loading of a vessel, 
and afore he come back father found he 'd 
got hold of the wrong bar'l, and had sp'ilt a 
bar'l of the best Holland gin ; he tried to 
get the cherries out, but that was n't any 
use, and he was dreadful afraid of Uncle Mat- 
thew, and he run away, and never was heard 
of from that time out. They supposed he 'd 
run away to sea, as he had a leaning that way, 
but nobody ever knew for certain ; and his 
mother, she 'most mourned herself to death. 
Gran'ther told me that it got so at last that 
if they could only know for sure that he was 
dead, it was all they would ask. But it went 



CUNNER-FISHIXG 219 

on four years, and gran'ther got used to it 
some ; though grandmother never would give 
up. And one morning early, before day, 
she waked him up, and says she, ' We 're 
going to hear from Matthew. Get up quick 
and go down to the store, an' see if there's a 
letter ! ' Nonsense,' says he. * I 've seen him,' 
says grandmother, ' and he 's coming home. 
He looks older, but just the same other ways, 
and he 's got long hair, like a horse's mane, 
all down over his shoulders.' 'Well, let the 
dead rest,' says gran'ther; 'you 've thought 
about the boy till your head is turned.' 'I 
tell you I saw Matthew himself,' says she, 
'and I want you to go right down to see 
if there is n't a letter.' And she kept at 
him till he saddled the horse, and he got 
down to the store before it was opened in 
the morning, and he had to wait round, 
and when the man came over to unlock it, 
he was 'most ashamed to tell what his er- 
rand was, for he had been so many times, 
and everybody supposed the boy was dead. 
When he asked for a letter, the man said 
there was none there, and asked if he was 
expecting any particular one. He did n't 
get many letters, I s'pose ; all his folks lived 
about here, and people did n't write any to 
speak of in those days. Gran'ther said he 



2 20 DEEPHAVEN 

thought he would n't make such a fool of 
himself again, but he did n't say anything, 
and he waited round awhile, talking to one 
and another who came up, and by and by 
says the storekeeper, who was reading a 
newspaper that had just come, ' Here 's some 
news for you. Sands, I do believe ! There 
are three vessels come into Boston harbor 
that have been out whaling and sealing in 
the South Seas for three or four years, and 
your son Matthew's name is down on the list 
of the crew.' * I tell ye,' says gran'ther, * I 
took that paper, and I got on my horse and 
put for home, and your grandmother, she 
hailed me, and she said, ''You 've heard, 
haven't you?" before I told her a word.' 
"Gran'ther, he got his breakfast and started 
right off for Boston, and got there early the 
second day, and went right down on the 
wharves. Somebody lent him a boat, and 
he went out to where there were two sealers 
laying off riding at anchor, and he asked a 
sailor if Matthew was aboard. * Ay, ay,' says 
the sailor, ' he 's down below.' And he sung 
out for him ; and when he come up out of the 
hold his hair was long, down over his shoul- 
ders, like a horse's mane, just as his mother 
saw it in the dream. Gran'ther, he did n't 
know what to say, — it scared him, — and he 



CUNNER-FISHING 221 

asked how it happened ; and father told how 
they 'd been off seaHng in the South Seas, and 
he and another man had Hved alone on an 
island for months, and the whole crew had 
grown wild in their ways of living, being off so 
long, and for one thing had gone without hats 
and let their hair grow. The rest of the 
men had been ashore and got fixed up smart, 
but he had been busy, and had put it off till 
that morning ; he was just going ashore then. 
Father was all struck up when he heard 
about the dream, and said his mind had been 
dwellin' on his mother and going home, and 
he come down to let her see him just as 
he was, and she said it was the same way he 
looked in the dream. He never would have 
his haircut — father wouldn't — and wore 
it in a queue. I remember seeing him with 
it when I was a boy ; but his second wife 
did n't like the looks of it, and she come up 
behind him one day and cut it off with the 
scissors. He was terrible worked up about 
it. I never see father so mad as he was 
that day. Now this is just as true as the 
Bible," said Captain Sands. "I haven't put 
a word to it, and gran'ther al'ays told a 
story just as it was. That woman saw her 
son ; but if you ask me what kind of eye- 
sight it was, I can't tell you, nor nobody else." 



2 22 DEEPHAVEN 

Later chat evening, Kate and I drifted 
into a long talk about the captain's stories 
and these mysterious powers of which we 
know so little. It was somewhat chilly in 
the house, and we had kindled a fire in the 
fireplace, which at first made a blaze which 
lighted the old room royally, and then quieted 
down into red coals and lazy puffs of smoke. 
We had carried the lights away, and sat with 
our feet on the fender, and Kate's great dog 
was lying between us on the rug. I remem- 
ber that evening so well ; we could see the 
stars through the window plainer and plainer 
as the fire went down, and \ve could hear 
the noise of the sea. 

"Do you remember, in the old myth of 
Demeter and Persephone," Kate asked me, 
*' where Demeter takes care of the child and 
gives it ambrosia and hides it in fire, because 
she loves it and wishes to make it immortal 
and to give it eternal youth ; and then the mo- 
ther finds it out and cries in terror to hinder 
her, and the goddess angrily throws the child 
down and rushes away } And he had to share 
the common destiny of mankind, though he 
always had some wonderful inscrutable grace 
and wisdom, because a goddess had loved him 
and held him in her arms. I always thought 
that part of the story beautiful where Deme- 



CUNNER-FISHIXG 223 

ter throws off her disguise and is no longer 
an old woman, and the great house is filled 
with brightness like lightning, and she rushes 
out through the halls with her yellow hair 
waving over her shoulders, and the people 
would give anything to bring her back again, 
and to undo their mistake. I knew it almost 
all by heart once," said Kate, "and I am al- 
ways finding a new meaning in it. I was 
just thinking that it may be that we all have 
given to us more or less of another nature, 
as the child had whom Demeter wished to 
make like the gods. I believe old Captain 
Sands is right, and we have these instincts 
w^hich defy all our wisdom and for which we 
never can frame any laws. We may laugh 
at them, but we are always meeting them, 
and one cannot help knowing that it has been 
the same through all history. They are pow- 
ers which are imperfectly developed in this 
life, but one cannot help the thought that the 
mystery of this world may be the common- 
place of the next." 

"I wonder," said I, "why it is that one 
hears so much more of such things from 
simple country people. They believe in 
dreams, and they have a kind of fetichism, 
and believe so heartily in supernatural causes, 
I suppose nothing could shake Mrs. Patton's 



224 



DEEPHAVEN 



faith in warnings. There is no end of 
absurdity in it, and yet there is one side of 
such lives for which one cannot help having 
reverence ; they live so much nearer to na- 
ture than people who are in cities, and there 




Bedtime 



is often a soberness about country people 
that one cannot help noticing. I wonder if 
they are unconsciously awed by the strength 
and purpose in the world about them, and 
the mysterious creative power which is at 



CUNNER-FISHIXG 225 

work with them on their familiar farms. In 
their simple life they take their instincts for 
truths, and perhaps they are not always so 
far wrong as we imagine. Because they are 
so instinctive and unreasoning, they may have 
a more complete sympathy with Nature, and 
may hear her voices when wiser ears are 
deaf. They have much in common, after 
all, with the plants which grow up out of 
the ground and the wild creatures which 
depend upon their instincts wholly." 

" I think," said Kate, " that the more one 
lives out of doors the more personality there 
seems to be in what we call inanimate things. 
The strength of the hills and the voice of the 
waves are no longer only grand poetical sen- 
tences, but an expression of something real, 
and more and more one finds God himself in 
the world, and believes that we may read the 
thoughts that He writes for us in the book 
of Nature." And after this we were silent 
for a while ; and in the mean time it grew 
very late, and we watched the fire until there 
were only a few sparks left in the ashes. 
The stars faded away, and the moon came up 
out of the sea, and we barred the great hall 
door and went upstairs to bed. The light- 
house lamp burned steadily, and it was the 
only light that had not been blown out in all 
Deephaven. 



i 





^w. .^ - ""^r^^f^***^*^ 



,^,. 




^hW 



yj/ri". Bonny 

I AM sure that Kate Lancaster and I 
must have spent by far the greater part 
of the summer out of doors. We often made 
long expeditions out into the suburbs of 
Deephaven, sometimes being gone all day, 
and sometimes taking a long afternoon stroll 
and coming home early in the evening hun- 
gry as hunters and laden with treasure, 
whether we had been through the pine woods 
inland or alongshore, whether we had met 
old friends or made some desirable new ac- 
quaintances. We had a fashion of calling at 
the farm-houses, and by the end of the season 
we knew as many people as if we had lived in 
Deephaven all our days. We used to ask for 



MRS. BONNY 227 

a drink of water ; this was our unfailing in- 
troduction, and afterward there were many 
interesting subjects which one could in- 
troduce, and we could always give the latest 
news at the shore. It was amusing to see 
the curiosity which we aroused. Many of 
the people came into Deephaven only on 
special occasions, and I must confess that at 
first we were often naughty enough to wait 
until we had been severely cross-questioned 
before we gave a definite account of our- 
selves. Kate was very clever at making un- 
satisfactory answers when she cared to do 
so. We did not understand, for some time, 
with what a keen sense of enjoyment many 
of those people made the acquaintance of an 
entirely new person who cordially gave the 
full particulars about herself ; but we soon 
learned to call this by another name than im- 
pertinence. 

I think there were no points of interest in 
that region which we did not visit with con- 
scientious faithfulness. There were clifis and 
pebble-beaches, the long sands and the short 
sands ; there were Black Rock and Roaring 
Rock, High Point and East Point, and Spout- 
ing Rock ; we went to see where a ship had 
been driven ashore in the night, all hands 
being lost and not a piece of her left larger 



228 DEEPHAVEN 

than an axe-handle ; we visited the spot 
where a ship had come ashore in the fog, and 
had been left high and dry on the edge of the 
marsh when the tide went out ; we saw 
where the brig Methuselah had been wrecked, 
and the shore had been golden with her cargo 
of lemons and oranges, which one might 
carry away by the wherry ful. 

Inland there were not so many noted lo- 
calities, but we used to enjoy the woods and 
our ex'i^lorations among the farms immensely. 
To the westward the land was better and 
the people well-to-do ; but we went oftenest 
toward the hills and among the poorer peo- 
ple. The land w^as uneven and full of ledges, 
and the people worked hard for their living, 
at most laying aside only a few dollars each 
year. Some of the more enterprising young 
people went away to work in shops and fac- 
tories ; but the custom was by no means 
universal, and the people had a hungry, dis- 
couraged look. It is all very well to say 
that they knew nothing better, that it was 
the only life of which they knew anything ; 
there was too often a look of disappointment 
in their faces, and sooner or later we heard 
or guessed many stories : that this young 
man had wished for an education, but there 
had been no money to spare for books or 



MRS. BOXXY 229 

schooling ; and that one had meant to learn 
a trade, but there must be some one to help 
his father with the farm-work, and there was 
no money to hire a man to work in his place 
if he went away. The older people had a hard 
look, as if they had always to be on the alert 
and must fight for their place in the world. 
One could only forgive and pity their petty 
sharpness, which showed itself in trifling 
bargains, when one understood how much a 
single dollar meant where dollars came so 
rarely. We used to pity the young girls so 
much. It was plain that those who knew 
how much easier and pleasanter our lives 
were could not help envying us. 

There was a high hill half a dozen miles 
from Deephaven which was known in its 
region as ''the mountain." It was the high- 
est land anywhere near us ; and having been 
told that there was a fine view from the top, 
one day we went there, with Tommy Dockum 
for escort. We overtook Mr. Lorimer, the 
minister, on his way to make parochial calls 
upon some members of his parish who lived 
far from church, and to our delight he pro- 
posed to go with us instead. It was a great 
satisfaction to have him for a guide, for he 
knew both the country and the people more 
intimately than any one else. It was a long 



230 DEEPIIAVEN 

climb to the top of the hill, but not a hard 
one. The sky was clear, and there was a 
fresh wind, though we had left none at all at 
the sea-level. After lunch, Kate and I spread 
our shawls over a fine cushion of mountain- 
cranberry, and had a long talk with Mr. Lori- 
mer about ancient and modern Deephaven. 
He always seemed as much pleased with our 
enthusiasm for the town as if it had been 
a personal favor and compliment to himself. 
I remember how far we could see, that day, 
and how we looked toward the far-away blue 
mountains, and then out over the ocean. 
Deephaven looked insignificant from that 
height and distance, and indeed the country 
seemed to be mostly covered with the pointed 
tops of pines and spruces, and there were 
long tracts of maple and beech woods with 
their coloring of lighter, fresher green. 

''Suppose we go down, now," said Mr. 
Lorimer, long before Kate and I had meant 
to propose such a thing ; and our feeling was 
that of dismay. " I should like to take you 
to make a call with me. Did you ever hear 
of old Mrs. Bonny.?" 

" No," said we, and cheerfully gathered our 
wraps and baskets ; and when Tommy finally 
came panting up the hill after we had begun 
to think that our shoutings and whistling 



MRS. BONNY 231 

were useless, we sent him down to the horses, 
and went down ourselves by another path. It 
led us a long distance through a grove of 
young beeches ; the last year's whitish leaves 
lay thick on the ground, and the new leaves 
made so close a roof overhead that the light 
was strangely purple, as if it had come 
through a great church window of stained 
glass. After this we went through some hem- 
lock growth, where, on the lower branches, 
the pale green of the new shoots and the 
dark green of the old made an exquisite con- 
trast each to the other. Finally we came 
out at Mrs. Bonny's. Mr. Lorimer had told 
us something about her on the way down, 
saying in the first place that she was one of 
the queerest characters he knew. Her hus- 
band used to be a charcoal-burner and bas- 
ket-maker, and she used to sell butter, and 
berries, and eggs, and choke-pears preserved 
in molasses. She always came down to 
Deephaven on a little black horse, with her 
goods in baskets and bags which were fas- 
tened to the saddle in a mysterious w^ay. She 
had the reputation of not being a neat house- 
keeper, and none of the wise women of the 
town would touch her butter especially, so it 
was always a joke when she coaxed a new 
resident or a strange shipmaster into buying 



232 DEEPHAVEN 

her wares ; but the old woman always man- 
aged to jog home without the freight she had 
brought. " She must be very old, now," said 
Mr. Lorimer ; *' I have not seen her in a long 
time. It cannot be possible that her horse is 
still alive ! " And we all laughed when we 
saw Mrs. Bonny's steed at a little distance, 
for the shaggy old creature was covered with 
mud, pine-needles, and dead leaves, with half 
the last year's burdock-burs in all Deephaven 
snarled into his mane and tail and sprinkled 
over his fur, which looked nearly as long as 
a buffalo's. He had hurt his leg, and his 
kind mistress had tied it up with a piece of 
faded red calico and an end of ragged rope. 
He gave us a civil neigh, and looked at us 
curiously. Then an impertinent little yellow- 
and-white dog, with one ear standing up 
straight and the other drooping over, began 
to bark with all his might ; but he retreated 
when he saw Kate's great dog, who was walk- 
ing solemnly by her side and did not deign 
to notice him. Just now Mrs. Bonny ap- 
peared at the door of the house, shading her 
eyes with her hand, to see who was coming. 
'* Landy ! " said she, "if it ain't old Parson 
Lorimer ! And who be these with ye ? " 

" This is Miss Kate Lancaster of Boston, 
Miss Katharine Brandon's niece, and her 
friend Miss Denis." 



MRS. BONNY 



233 



''Pleased to see ye," said the old woman; 
"walk in and lay off your things." And we 
followed her into the house. I wish you 
could have seen her : she wore a man's coat, 
cut off so that it made an odd short jacket, 
and a pair of men's boots much the worse for 




%^^ 




RTrs. Bonny'' s Home 



wear ; also, some short skirts, beside two or 
three aprons, the inner one being a full-dress- 
apron, as she took off the outer ones and 
threw them into a corner; and on her head 
was a tight cap, with strings to tie under her 



234 DEEPIIAVEN 

chin. I thought it was a nightcap, and that 
she had forgotten to take it off, and dreaded 
her mortification if she should suddenly be- 
come conscious of it ; but I need not have 
troubled myself, for while we were with her 
she pulled it on and tied it tighter, as if she 
considered it ornamental. 

There were only two rooms in the house ; 
we went into the kitchen, which was occu- 
pied by a flock of hens and one turkey. The 
latter was evidently undergoing a course of 
medical treatment behind the stove, and was 
allowed to stay with us, while the hens were 
remorselessly hustled out with a hemlock 
broom. They all congregated on the door- 
step, apparently wishing to hear everything 
that was said. 

" B'en up on the mountain.?" asked our 
hostess. " Real sightly place. Goin' to be a 
master lot o' rosbries ; get any down to the 
shore sence I quit comin' ? " 

" Oh, yes," said ]\Ir. Lorimer, '' but we miss 
seeing you." 

" I s'pose so," said Mrs. Bonny, smoothing 
her apron complacently; "but I'm getting 
old, and I tell 'em I 'm goin' to take my com- 
fort ; sence 'he' died I don't put myself out 
no great ; I 've got money enough to keep 
me long 's I live. Beckett's folks goes down 



MRS. BONNY 235 

often, and I sends by them for what store 
stuff I want." 

" How are you now? " asked the minister; 
"I think I heard you were ill in the spring." 

" Stirrin', I 'm obliged to ye. I was n't 
laid up long, and I was so 's I could get 
about most of the time. I 've got the best 
bitters ye ever see, good for the spring of 
the year. S'pose yer sister, Miss Lorimer, 
wouldn't like some .^ she used to be weakly 
lookin'," But her brother refused the offer, 
saying that she had not been so well for 
many years. 

" Do you often get out to church nowadays, 
Mrs. Bonny } I believe Mr. Reid preaches 
in the school-house sometimes, down by the 
great ledge ; does n't he .'' " 

''Well, yes, he does ; but I don't know as 
I get much of any good. Parson Reid, he 's 
a worthy creatur', but he never seems to have 
nothin' to say about foreordination and them 
p'ints. Old Parson Padelford was the man ! 
I used to set under his preachin' a good deal ; 
I had an aunt living down to East Parish. 
He 'd get worked up till he 'd shut up the 
Bible and preach the hair off your head, 'long 
at the end of the sermon. Could n't under- 
stand more nor a quarter part o' what he 
said," said Mrs. Bonny admiringly. ''Well, 



236 DEEPHAVEN 

we were a-speaking about the meeting over to 
the ledge ; I don't know 's I like them ledge 
people any to speak of. They had a great 
revival over there in the fall, and one Sunday 
I thought 's how I 'd go ; and when I got 
there, who should be a-prayin' but old Ben 
Patey, — he always lays out to get con- 
verted, — and he kep' it up diligent till I 
couldn't stand it no longer; and by and by 
says he, * I 've been a wanderer ; ' and I up 
and says right out, * Yes, you have, I '11 back 
ye up on that, Ben ; ye've wandered round my 
wood-lot and spoilt half the likely young oaks 
and ashes I 've got, a-stealing your basket- 
stuff.' And the folks laughed out loud, and 
up he got and cleared. Hq 's an awful old 
thief, and he 's no idea of being anything 
else. I wa'n't a-goin' to set there and hear 
him makin' b'lieve to the Lord. If anybody's 
heart is in it, I ain't a-goin' to bender 'em ; 
I 'm a professor, and I ain't ashamed of it, 
week-days nor Sundays neither. I can't bear 
to see folks so pious to meeting, and cheat yer 
eye-teeth out Monday morning. Well, there ! 
we ain't none of us perfect ; even old Parson 
Moody was round-shouldered, they say." 

"You were speaking of the Becketts just 
now," said Mr. Lorimer (after we had stopped 
laughing, and Mrs. Bonny had settled her 



MRS. BONNY 237 

big Steel-bowed spectacles and sat looking 
at him with an expression of extreme wis- 
dom. One might have ventured to call her 
''peart," I think). ''How do they get on.? 
I am seldom in this region nowadays, since 
Mr. Reid has taken it under his charge." 

"They get along somehow or 'nother," 
replied Mrs. Bonny; "they've got the best 
farm this side of the ledge, but they 're 
dreadful lazy and shiftless, them young folks. 
Old Mis' Hate-evil Beckett was tellin' me 
the other day — she that was Samanthy 
Barnes, you know — that one of the boys got 
fighting, the other side of the mountain, and 
come home with his nose broke and a piece 
o' one ear bit off. I forget which ear it 
was. Their mother is a real clever, willin' 
woman, and she takes it to heart, but it 's no 
use for her to say anything. Mis' Hate-evil 
Beckett, says she, ' It does make my man feel 
dreadful to see his brother's folks carry on 
so.' 'But there,' says I, ' Mis' Beckett, it 's 
just such things as we read of; Scriptur' is 
fulfilled : In the larter days there shall be 
disobedient children.'" 

This application of the text was too much 
for us, but Mrs. Bonny looked serious, and 
we did not like to laugh. Two or three of 
the exiled fowls had crept slyly in, dodging 



238 DEEPHAVEX 

underneath our chairs, and had perched 
themselves behind the stove. They were 
long-legged, half-grown creatures, and just 
at this minute one rash young rooster made 
a manful attempt to crow. " Do tell ! " said 
his mistress, who rose in great wrath; "you 
need n't be so forth-putting, as I knows on ! " 
After this we were urged to stay and have 
some supper. Mrs. Bonny assured us she 
could pick a likely young hen in no time, fry 
her with a bit of pork, and get us up ''a 
good meat tea ; " but we had to disappoint 
her, as we had some distance to walk to the 
house where we had left our horses, and a 
long drive home. 

Kate asked if she would be kind enough 
to lend us a tumbler (for ours was in the 
basket, which was given into Tommy's 
charge). We were thirsty, and wished to go 
back to the spring and get some water. 

'' Yes, dear," said Mrs. Bonny, '* I 've got 
a glass, if it 's so 's I can find it." And she 
pulled a chair under the little cupboard over 
the fireplace, mounted it, and opened the 
door. Several things fell out at her ; and 
after taking a careful survey she went in, 
head and shoulders, until I thought that she 
would disappear altogether ; but soon she 
came back, and reaching in took out one 




Mrs. Boiiiv i// IL'iiu' 



MRS. BONNY 241 

treasure after another, putting them on the 
mantelpiece or dropping them on the floor. 
There were some bunches of dried herbs, a 
tin horn, a lump of tallow in a broken plate, 
a folded newspaper, and an old boot, with a 
number of turkey-wings tied together, several 
vials, and a steel trap, and finally, such a tum- 
bler ! which she produced with triumph, be- 
fore stepping down. She poured out of it on 
the table a mixture of old buttons and squash- 
seeds, beside a lump of beeswax which she 
said she had lost, and now pocketed with 
satisfaction. She wiped the tumbler on her 
apron and handed it to Kate ; but we were 
not so thirsty as we had been, though we 
thanked her and went down to the spring, 
coming back as soon as possible, for we could 
not lose a bit of the conversation. 

There was a beautiful view from the door- 
step, and we stopped a minute there. " Real 
sightly, ain't it .-* " said Mrs. Bonny. "But 
you ought to be here and look acrost the 
woods some morning just at sun-up. Why, 
the sky is all yaller and red, and them low- 
lands topped with fog ! Yes, it 's nice 
weather, good growin' weather, this week. 
Corn and all the rest of the trade looks first- 
rate. I call it a forrard season. It 's just 
such weather as we read of, ain't it ? " 



242 



DEEPHAVEN 



"I don't remember where, just at this 
moment," said Mr. Lorimer, 

" Why, in the almanac, bless ye ! " said 
she, with a tone of pity in her grum voice ; 
could it be possible he did n't know, — the 
Deephaven minister ! 

We asked her to come and see us. She 
said she had always thought she 'd get a 
chance some time to see Miss Katharine 
Brandon's house. She should be pleased to 
call, and she did n't know but she should be 
down to the shore before very long. She 
was 'shamed to look so shifless that day, but 
she had some good clothes in a chist in the 
bedroom, and a boughten bonnet with a good 
cypress veil, which she had w^ien " he " 
died. She calculated they would do, though 
they might be old-fashioned, some. She 
seemed greatly pleased at Mr. Lorimer's 
having taken the trouble to come to see her. 
All those people had a great reverence for 
"the minister." We were urged to come 
again in "rosbry" time, which was near at 
hand, and she gave us messages for some 
of her old customers and acquaintances. ** I 
believe some of those old creatur's will never 
die," said she ; " why, they 're getting to be 
ter'ble old, ain't they, Mr. Lorimer } There ! 
ye 've done me a sight of good, and I wish I 
could ha' found the Bible, to hear ye read 



MRS. BONNY 243 

a Psalm." When Mr. Lorimer shook hands 
with her, at leaving, she made him a most 
reverential courtesy. He was the greatest 
man she knew ; and once during the call, 
when he was speaking of serious things in 
his simple, earnest way, she had so devout 
a look, and seemed so interested, that Kate 
and I, and Mr. Lorimer himself, caught a 
new, fresh meaning in the familiar words he 
spoke. 

Living there in the lonely clearing, deep 
in the woods and far from any neighbor, she 
knew all the herbs and trees, and the harm- 
less wild creatures who lived among them, 
by heart ; and she had an amazing store of 
tradition and superstition, which made her 
so entertaining to us that we went to see her 
many times before we came away in the 
autumn. We went with her to find some 
pitcher-plants one day, and it was wonderful 
how much she knew about the woods, what 
keen observation she had. There was some- 
thing so wild and unconventional about Mrs. 
Bonny that it was like taking an afternoon 
walk with a good-natured Indian. We used 
to carry her offerings of tobacco, for she was 
a great smoker, and advised us to try it our- 
selves if ever we should be troubled with 
nerves, or "narves," as she pronounced the 
name of that affliction. 






^^^^- 




In Shadow 



SOON after we went to Deephaven we 
took a long drive one day with Mr. 
Dockum, the kindest and silentest of men. 
He had the care of the Brandon property, 
and had some business at that time con- 
nected with a large tract of pasture-land per- 
haps ten miles from town. We had heard of 
the coast road which led to it, — how rocky 
and how rough and wild it was, and when 
Kate heard by chance that Mr. Dockum 
meant to go that way, she asked if we might 
go with him. He said he would much rather 
take us than "go sole alone," but he should 
be away until late and we must take our din- 
ner, which, we did not mind doing at all. 



IN SHADOW 245 

After we were three or four miles from 
Deephaven, the country looked very differ- 
ent. The shore was so rocky that there 
were almost no places where a boat could 
put in, so there were no fishermen in the 
region, and the farms were scattered wide 
apart ; the land was so poor that even the 
trees looked hungry. At the end of our 
drive we left the horse at a lonely little farm- 
house close by the sea. Mr. Dockum was 
to walk a long way inland through the 
woods with a man whom he had come to 
meet, and he told us if we followed the 
shore westward a mile or two we should find 
some very high rocks, for which he knew we 
had a great liking. It was a delightful day 
to spend out of doors ; there was an occa- 
sional whiff of salt east-wind. Seeing us 
seemed to be a perfect godsend to the people 
whose nearest neighbors lived far out of 
si2:ht. We had a lono: talk with them before 
we went for our walk. The house was close 
by the water by a narrow cove, around which 
the rocks were low ; but farther down the 
shore the land rose more and more, and at 
last we stood at the edge of the highest rocks 
of all and looked far down at the sea, dash- 
ing its white spray high over the ledges that 
quiet day. What could it be in winter when 



246 DEEPHAVEN 

there was a storm and the great waves came 
thundering in ? 

After we had explored the shore to our 
hearts' content and were tired, we rested for 
a while in the shadow of some gnarled pitch- 
pines which stood close together, as near the 
sea as they dared. They looked like a band 
of outlaws, they were such wild-looking trees. 
They seemed very old, and as if their savage 
fights with the winter winds had made them 
hard-hearted. And yet the little wild-flow- 
ers and the thin green grass-blades were 
growing fearlessly close around their feet ; 
and there were some comfortable birds'-nests 
in safe corners of their rough branches. 

When we went back to the house at the 
cove, we had to wait some time for Mr. 
Dockum. We succeeded in making friends 
with the children, and gave them some candy 
and the rest of our lunch, which luckily had 
been even more abundant than usual. They 
looked thin and pitiful ; but even in that 
lonely place, where they so seldom saw a 
stranger or even a neiohbor, thev showed 
that there was an evident effort to make 
them look like other children, and they were 
neatly dressed, though there could be no 
mistake about their being very poor. One 
forlorn little soul, with honest gray eyes and 



IN SHADOW 247 

a sweet, shy smile, showed us a string of 
beads which she wore round her neck ; there 
were perhaps two dozen of them, blue and 
white, on a bit of twine, and they were the 
dearest things in all her world. When we 
came away we were so glad that we could 
give the man more than he asked us for 
taking care of the horse, and his thanks 
touched us. 

" I hope ye may never know what it is to 
earn every dollar as hard as I have. I never 
earned any money as easy as this before. I 
don't feel as if I ought to take it. I 've 
done the best I could," said the man, with 
the tears coming into his eyes, and a huski- 
ness in his voice. " I 've done the best I 
could, and I 'm willin' and my woman is, 
but everything seems to have been ag'in' us ; 
we never seem to get forehanded. It looks 
sometimes as if the Lord had forgot us, but 
my woman, she never wants me to say that ; 
she says He ain't, and that we might be worse 
off, — but I don' know. I haven't had my 
health; that's hendered me most. I'm a 
boat-builder by trade, but the business 's all 
run down ; folks buys 'em second-hand now- 
adays, and you can't make nothing. I can't 
stand it to foller deep-sea fishing, and — 
well, you see what my land 's wuth. But my 



248 DEEPHAVEN 

oldest boy, he 's getting ahead. He pushed 
off this spring, and he works in a box-shop 
to Boston ; a cousin o' his mother's got him 
the chance. He sent me ten dollars a spell 
ago and his mother a shawl. I don't see how 
he done it, but he 's smart ! " 

This seemed to be the only bright spot in 
their lives, and we admired the shawl and sat 
down in the house awhile with the mother, 
who seemed kind and patient and tired, and 
to have great delight in talking about what 
one should wear. Kate and I thought and 
spoke often of these people afterward ; and 
when one day we met the man in Deep- 
haven, we sent some things to the children 
and his wife, and begged him to come to the 
house whenever he came to town. But we 
never saw him again ; and though we made 
many plans for going again to the cove, we 
never did. At one time the road was re- 
ported impassable, and we put off our sec- 
ond excursion for this reason and others 
until just before we left Deephaven, late in 
October. 

We knew the coast-road would be bad 
after the fall rains, and we found that Lean- 
der, the eldest of the Dockum boys, had 
some errand that way, so he went with us. 
We enjoyed the drive that morning in spite 



IN SHADOW 



249 



of the rough road. The air was warm, and 
sweet with the smell of bayberry-bushes and 
pitch-pines and the deUcious saltness of the 
sea, which was not far from us all the way. 
It was a perfect autumn day. Sometimes 
we crossed pebble beaches, and then went 




^SS*^. 



vr:^^r^^:;.r^KS^' 



*^, 



A Pebble BeaJi 



farther inland, through woods and up and 
down steep little hills ; over shaky bridges 
which crossed narrow salt creeks in the 
marsh-lands. There was a little excitement 
about the drive, and an exhilaration in the 
air, and we laughed at jokes forgotten the 
next minute, and sang, and were jolly enough. 
Leander, who had never happened to see us 
in exactly this hilarious state of mind before, 



250 DEEPHAVEN 

seemed surprised and interested, and be- 
came unusually talkative, telling us a great 
many edifying particulars about the people 
whose houses we passed, and who owned 
every wood-lot along the road. '* Do you 
see that house over on the p'int ? " he asked. 
" An old fellow lives there that 's part lost 
his mind. He had a son who was drowned 
off Cod Rock fishing, much as twenty-five 
years ago ; and he 's worn a deep path out 
to the end of the p'int, where he goes out 
every hand's turn o' the day to see if he can't 
see the boat coming in." And Leander 
looked round to see if we were not amused, 
and seemed puzzled because we did n't laugh. 
Happily, his next story was funny. 

We saw a sleepy little owl muffled up on 
the dead branch of a pine-tree ; we saw a rab- 
bit cross the road and disappear in a clump 
of juniper, and squirrels run up and down 
trees and along the stone-walls with acorns 
in their mouths. We passed straggling 
thickets of the upland sumach, leafless, and 
holding high their ungainly spikes of red ber- 
ries ; there were sturdy barberry -bushes along 
the lonely wayside, their unpicked fruit 
hanging in brilliant clusters. The blueberry- 
bushes made patches of dull red along the 
hillsides. The ferns were whitish-gray and 



IN SHADOW 251 

brown at the edges of the woods, and the 
asters and golden-rods which had lately 
looked so gay in the open fields stood now 
in faded, frost-bitten companies. There 
were busy flocks of birds flitting from field 
to field, ready to start on their journey south- 
ward. 

When we reached the house, to our sur- 
prise there was no one in sight and the place 
looked deserted. We left the wagon ; and 
while Leander went toward the barn, which 
stood at a little distance, Kate and I went to 
the house and knocked. I opened the door 
a little way and said " Hello ! " but nobody 
answered. The people could not have moved 
away, for there were some chairs standing 
outside the door, and as I looked in I saw 
the bunches of herbs hanging up, and a 
trace of corn, and the furniture was all there. 
It was a great disappointment, for we had 
counted upon seeing the children again. 
Leander said there was nobody at the barn, 
and that they must have gone to a funeral ; 
he could n't think of anything else. 

Just now we saw some people coming up 
the road, and we thought at first that they 
were the man and his wife coming back ; but 
they proved to be strangers, and we eagerly 
asked what had become of the family. 



252 DEEPHAVEN 

"They're dead, both on 'em. His wife, 
she died about nine weeks ago last Sunday, 
and he died day before yesterday. Funeral 's 
going to be this afternoon. Thought ye 
were some of her folks from up country, 
when we were coming along," said the man. 

'' Guess they won't come nigh," said the 
woman scornfully ; '' 'fraid they 'd have to 
help provide for the children. I was half- 
sister to him, and I Ve got to take the two 
least ones." 

" Did you say he was going to be buried 
this afternoon ? " asked Kate slowly. We 
were both more startled than I can tell. 

" Yes," said the man, who seemed much 
better natured than his wife. She appeared 
like a person whose only aim in life was to 
have things over with. " Yes, we 're going 
to bury at two o'clock. They had a master 
sight of trouble, first and last." 

Leander had said nothing all this time. 
He had known the man, and had expected 
to spend the day with him and to get him to 
go on two miles farther to help bargain for a 
dory. He asked, in a disappointed way, what 
had carried him off so sudden. 

'' Drink," said the woman relentlessly. 
" He ain't been good for nothing sence his 
wife died ; she was took with a fever along 



IN SHADOW 253 

in the first of August. / 'd ha' got up from 
it!" 

" Now don't be hard on the dead, Marthy," 
said her husband. " I guess they done the 
best they could. They were n't so shif'less, 
you know ; they never had no health : 't was 
against wind and tide with 'em all the time." 
And Kate asked, " Did you say he was your 
brother?" 

" Yes. I was half-sister to him," said the 
woman promptly, with perfect unconscious- 
ness of Kate's meaning. 

" And what will become of those poor 
children ? " 

*' I 've got the two youngest over to my 
place to take care on, and the two next them 
has been put out to some folks over to the 
cove. I dare say like 's not they '11 be sent 
back." 

*' They 're clever child 'n, I guess," said 
the man, who spoke as if this were the first 
time he had dared take their part. *' Don't 
be ha'sh, Marthy ! Who knows but they 
may do for us when we get to be old ? " 
And then she turned and looked at him with 
utter contempt. " I can't stand it to hear 
men-folks talking on what they don't know 
nothing about," said she. "The ways of 
Providence is dreadful myster'ous," she went 



254 DEEPHAVEN 

on with a whine, instead of the sharp tone of 
voice which we had heard before. " We 've 
had a hard row, and we've just got our own 
children off our hands and able to do for 
themselves, and now here are these to be 
fetched up." 

'' But perhaps they '11 be a help to you ; 
they seem to be good little things," said 
Kate. '' I saw them in the summer, and they 
seemed to be pleasant children, and it is 
dreadfully hard for them to be left alone. 
It 's not their fault, you know. We brought 
over something for them ; will you be kind 
enough to take the basket when you go 
home.?" 

"Thank ye, I'm sure," said the aunt, re- 
lenting slightly. *' You can speak to my 
man about it, and he '11 give it to somebody 
that 's going by. I 've got to walk in the 
procession. They '11 be obliged, I 'm sure. 
I s'pose you 're the young ladies that come 
here right after the Fourth o' July, ain't you ? 
I should be pleased to have you call and see 
the child'n, if you're over this way again. I 
heard 'em talk about you last time I was over. 
Won't ye step into the house and see him ? 
He looks real natural," she added. But we 
said, " No, thank you." 

Leander told us he believed he would n't 



IX SHADOW 255 

bother about the dory that day, and he 
should be there at the house whenever we 
were ready. He evidently considered it a 
piece of good luck that he had happened to 
arrive in time for the funeral. We spoke to 
the man about the things we had brought for 
the children, which seemed to delight him, 
poor soul, and we felt sure he would be kind 
to them. His w^fe shouted to him from a 
window of the house that he 'd better not loi- 
ter round, or they would n't be half ready 
when the folks began to come, and we said 
good-by to him and went away. 

It was a beautiful morning, and we walked 
slowly along the shore to the high rocks and 
the pitch-pine trees which w^e had seen be- 
fore ; the air was deliciously fresh, and one 
could take long, deep breaths of it. The tide 
was coming in, and the spray dashed higher 
and higher. We climbed about the rocks 
and went down in some of the deep, cold 
clefts into which the sun could seldom shine. 
We gathered some wild-flowers : bits of pim- 
pernel and one or two sprigs of fringed gen- 
tian which had bloomed late in a sheltered 
place, and a pale little bouquet of asters. We 
sat for a long time looking off to sea, and we 
could talk or think of almost nothing beside 
what we had seen and heard at the farm- 



256 DEEPHAVEN 

house. We said how much we should like to 
go to the funeral, and we even made up our 
minds to go back in season, but we gave up 
the idea : we had no right there, and it 
would seem as if we were merely curious, 
and we were afraid our presence would make 
the people ill at ease, the minister especially. 
It would be an intrusion. 

We spoke of the children, and tried to 
think what could be done for them : we were 
afraid they would be told so many times that 
it was lucky they did not have to go to the 
poor-house, and yet we could not help pitying 
the hard-worked, discouraged woman whom 
we had seen, in spite of her bitterness. Poor 
soul ! she looked like a person to whom no- 
body had ever been very kind, and for whom 
life had no pleasures : its sunshine had never 
been warm enough to thaw the ice at her 
heart. 

We remembered how we knocked at the 
door and called loudly, but there had been 
no answer, and we wondered how we should 
have felt if we had gone farther into the 
room and had found the dead man in his cof- 
fin, all alone in the house. We thought of 
our first visit, and what he had said to us, 
and we wished we had come again sooner, 
for we might have helped them so much more 
if we had only known. 



IN SHADOW 259 

" What a pitiful ending it is," said Kate. 
" Do you realize that the family is broken up, 
and the children are to be half strangers to 
each other ? Did you not notice that they 
seemed very fond of each other when we 
saw them in the summer ? There was not 
half the roughness and apparent carelessness 
of one another which one so often sees in the 
country. Theirs was such a little world ; 
one can understand how, when the man's 
wife died, he was bewildered and discouraged, 
utterly at a loss. The thoughts of winter, 
and of the little children, and of the strug- 
gles he had already come through against 
poverty and disappointment were terrible 
thoughts ; and like a boat adrift at sea, the 
waves of his misery brought him in against 
the rocks, and his simple life was wrecked." 

" I suppose his grandest hopes and wishes 
would have been realized in a good farm and 
a thousand or two dollars in safe keeping," 
said I. " Do you remember that merry lit- 
tle song in * As You Like It ' ? 

' Who doth ambition shun 

And loves to live i' the sun, 
Seeking the food he eats, 
And pleased with what he gets ; ' 

and 

' Here shall he see 

No enemy 
But winter and rough weather.' 



26o DEEPHAVEN 

That is all he lived for, his literal daily bread. 
I suppose what would be prosperity to him 
would be miserably insufficient for some 
other people. I wonder how we can help 
being conscious, in the midst of our com- 
forts and pleasures, of the lives which are 
being starved to death in more ways than 
one." 

" I suppose one thinks more about these 
things as one grows older," said Kate 
thoughtfully. "How seldom life in this 
world seems to be a success ! Among rich 
or poor, only here and there one touches 
satisfaction, though the one who seems to 
have made an utter failure may really be the 
greatest conqueror. And, Helen, I find that 
I understand better and better how unsatis- 
factory, how purposeless and disastrous, any 
life must be which is not a Christian life. It 
is like being always in the dark, and wander- 
ing one knows not where, if one is not 
learning more and more what it is to have 
friendship with God." 

By the middle of the afternoon the sky 
had grown cloudy, and a wind seemed to be 
coming in off the sea, and we unwillingly 
decided that we must go home. We sup- 
posed that the funeral would be all over with, 
but found we had been mistaken when we 



IN SHADOW 261 

reached the cove. We ]^ ^ i ourselves on 
a rock near the water ; /u. oeside us was 
the old boat, with its killick and painter 
stretched ashore, where its owner had left it. 
There were several men standing around 
the door of the house, looking solemn and 
important, and by and by one of them came 
over to us. VVe found, too late, that it would 
have been much better for us to go in, and 
we learned a little more of the sad story. We 
liked this man, there was so much pity in his 
face and voice. "He was a real willin', hon- 
est man, Andrew was," said our new friend, 
" but he used to be sickly, and seemed to 
have no luck, though for a year or two he got 
along some better. When his wife died he 
was sore afflicted, and could n't get over it, 
and he did n't know what to do or what was 
going to become of 'em with winter comin' 
on, and — well — I may 's well tell ye ; he 
took to drink and it killed him right off. I 
come over two or three times and made some 
gruel and fixed him up 's well 's I could, and 
the little gals done the best they could ; but 
he faded right out, and did n't know anything 
the last time I see him, and he died Sunday 
mornin', when the tide begun to ebb. I al- 
ways set a good deal by Andrew ; we used 
to play together down to the great cove; 



262 DEEPHAVEN 

that's where he-vas raised, and my folks 
lived there too. l''ve got one o' the little 
gals. I always knowed him and his wife." 

Just now we heard the people in the house 
singing '' China," the Deephaven funeral 
hymn, and the tune suited well that day, 
with its wailing rise and fall ; it was strangely 
plaintive. Then the funeral exercises were 
over, and the man with whom we had just 
been speaking led to the door a horse and 
rickety wagon, from which the seat had been 
taken ; and when the coffin had been put in, 
he led the horse down the road a little way, 
and we watched the mourners come out of 
the house two by two. We heard some one 
scold in a whisper because the wagon was 
twice as far off as it need have been. They 
evidently had a rigid funeral etiquette, and 
felt it important that everything should be 
carried out according to rule. We saw a for- 
lorn-looking kitten, with a bit of faded braid 
round its neck, run across the road in terror 
and presently appear again on the stone-wall, 
where she sat looking at the people. We saw 
the dead man's eldest son, of whom he had 
told us in the summer with such pride. He 
had shown his respect for his father as best 
he could, by a black band on his hat and a 
pair of black cotton gloves a world too large 



IN SHADOW 263 

for him. He looked so sad, and cried bitterly, 
as he stood alone at the head of the people. 
His aunt was next, with a handkerchief at 
her eyes, fully equal to the proprieties of the 
occasion, though I fear her grief was not so 
heartfelt as her husband's, who dried his eyes 
on his coat-sleeve again and again. There 
were perhaps twenty of the mourners, and 
there was much whispering among those who 
walked last. The minister and some others 
fell into line, and the procession went slowly 
down the slope ; a strange shadow had fallen 
over everything. It was like a November 
day, for the air felt cold and bleak. There 
were some great sea-fowl high in the air, 
fighting their way toward the sea against the 
wind, and giving now and then a wild, far-off 
ringing cry. We could hear the dull sound 
of the sea, and at a little distance from the 
land the waves were leaping high, and break- 
ing in white foam over the isolated ledges. 

The rest of the people began to walk or 
drive away, but Kate and I stood watching 
the funeral as it crept along the narrow, 
crooked road. We had never seen what the 
people called "walking funerals" until we 
came to Deephaven, and there was some- 
thing piteous about this ; the mourners looked 
so few, and we could hear the rattle of the 



264 DEEPHAVEN 

wagon wheels. *'He 's gone, ain't he ? " said 
someone near us. That was it, — gone. 

Before the people had entered the house, 
there had been, I am sure, an indifferent, 
business-like look ; but when they came out, 
all that was changed : their faces were awed 
by the presence of death, and the indiffer- 
ence had given place to uncertainty. Their 
neighbor was immeasurably their superior 
now. Living, he had been a failure by their 
own low standards ; but now, if he could 
come back, he would know secrets, and be 
wise beyond anything they could imagine ; 
and who could know the riches of which he 
might have come into possession } 

To Kate and me there came a sudden 
consciousness of the mystery and inevitable- 
ness of death ; it was not fear, thank God ! 
but a thought of how certain it was that 
some day it would be a mystery to us no 
longer. And there was a thought, too, of 
the limitation of this present life ; we were 
waiting there, in company with the people, 
the great sea, and the rocks and fields them- 
selves, on this side the boundary. We 
knew just then how close to this familiar, 
every-day world might be the other, which at 
times before had seemed so far away, out 
of reach of even our thoughts, beyond the 
distant stars. 



IN SHADOW 



265 



We stayed awhile longer, until the little 
black funeral had crawled out of sight ; un- 
til we had seen the last funeral guest go 
away and the door had been shut and fas- 
tened with a queer old padlock and some 




Forsaken 



links of rusty chain. The door fitted loosely, 
and the man gave it a vindictive shake, as 
if he thought that the poor house had some- 
how been to blame, and that after a long, des- 
perate struggle for life under its roof and 



266 DEEPHAVEN 

among the stony fields, the family must go 
away defeated. It is not likely that any one 
else will ever go to live there. The man 
to whom the farm was mortgaged will add 
the few forlorn acres to his pasture-land, and 
the thistles which the man who is dead had 
fought so many years will march in next sum- 
mer and take unmolested possession. 

I think to-day of that fireless, empty, for- 
saken house, where the winter sun shines in 
and creeps slowly along the floor ; the bitter 
cold is in and around the house, and the snow 
has sifted in at every crack ; outside it is un- 
trodden by any living creature's footstep. 
The wind blows and rushes and shakes the 
loose window-sashes in their frames, while 
the padlock knocks — knocks against the 
door. 




Miss Chauncey 

THE Deephaven people used to say 
sometimes, complacently, that certain 
things or certain people were "as dull as East 
Parish," Kate and I grew curious to see 
that part of the world which was considered 
duller than Deephaven itself ; and as upon 
inquiry we found that it was not out of 
reach, one day we went there. 

It was like Deephaven, only on a smaller 
scale. The village — though it is a question 
whether that is not an exaggerated term to 
apply — had evidently seen better days. It 
was on the bank of a river, and perhaps half 
a mile from the sea. There were a few un- 
touched old buildings there, some with mossy 
roofs and a great deal of yellow lichen on the 
sides of the walls next the sea ; a few newer 



268 DEEPHAVEN 

houses, belonging to fishermen ; some dilapi- 
dated fish-houses ; and a row of fish-flakes. 
Every house seemed to have a lane of its 
own, and all faced different ways except two 
fish-houses, which stood amiably side by side. 
There was a church, which we had been told 
was the oldest in the region. Through the 
windows we saw the high pulpit and sound- 
ing-board, and finally found the great keys at 
a house near by ; so we went in and looked 
around at our leisure. A rusty foot-stove 
stood in one of the old square pews, and in 
the gallery there lay a majestic bass-viol with 
all its strings snapped but the largest, which 
gave out a doleful sound when v/e touched 
it, and somehow looked very uncomfortable 
until we built up a pillow of hymn books 
under its head. 

After we left the church we walked along 
the road a little way, and came in sight of a 
fine old house which had apparently fallen 
into ruin years before. The front entrance 
was a fine specimen of old-fashioned work- 
manship, with its columns and carvings, and 
the fence had been a grand afiair in its day, 
though now it could scarcely stand alone. 
The long range of out-buildings was falling 
piece by piece ; one shed had been blown down 
entirely by a late high wind. The large win- 



MISS CHAUNCEY 269 

dows had many small panes of glass, and the 
great chimneys were built of bright red 
bricks which used to be brought from over- 
seas in the early days of the colonies. We 
noticed the gnarled lilacs in the yard, the 
wrinkled cinnamon-roses, and a flourishing 
company of French pinks, or "bouncing 
Bets," as Kate called them. 

" Suppose we go in," said I; ''the door 
is open a little way. There surely must be 
some stories about its being haunted. We 
can ask Miss Honora." And we climbed 
over the boards which were put up like pas- 
ture-bars across the wide front gateway. 

" We shall certainly meet a ghost," said 
Kate. 

Just as we stood on the steps the great 
door was pulled wide open ; we started back, 
and, well-grown young women as we are, we 
have confessed since that our first impulse 
was to run away. On the threshold there 
stood a stately old woman who looked sur- 
prised at first sight of us, then quickly re- 
covered herself and stood waiting for us to 
speak. She was dressed in a rusty black 
satin gown, with scant, short skirt and 
huge sleeves ; on her head was a great 
black bonnet with a high crown and a close 
brim, which came far out over her face. 



270 DKKPIIAVEX 

" What is your pleasure ? " said she ; and 
we felt like two awkward children. Kate 
partially recovered her wits, and asked which 
was the nearer way to Deephaven. 

" There is but one road, past the church 
and over the hill. It cannot be missed." 
And she bowed gravely, when we thanked 
her and begged her pardon, we hardly knew 
why, and came away. 

We looked back to see her still standing in 
the doorway. "Who in the world can she 
be ? " said Kate, but we wondered and puzzled 
and talked over " the ghost " until we saw 
Miss Honora Carew, who told us that it was 
Miss Sally Chauncey. 

" Indeed, I know her, poor old soul ! " said 
Miss Honora. ** She has such a sad history. 
She is the last survivor of one of the most 
aristocratic old colonial families. The Chaun- 
cey s were people of great renown until early 
in the present century, and then their for- 
tunes changed. They had always been rich 
and well educated ; and I suppose nobody 
ever had a gayer, happier time than Miss 
Sally did in her girlhood, for they enter- 
tained a great deal of company and lived in 
fine style. But her father was unfortunate in 
business, and at last was utterly ruined at 
the time of the embargo ; then he became 




%--^i.^ ' -m^^if^ 



/^r-C^e.V&tdW-^ 



-.•^^... 



Miss Sally Chaimcey 



MISS CHAUNCEY 273 

partially insane, and died after many years of 
poverty. I have often heard a tradition that 
a sailor had cursed him, to whom he had bro- 
ken a promise, and that none of the family 
had died in their beds or had any good for- 
tune since. The East Parish people seem to 
believe in it, and it is certainly strange what 
terrible sorrow has come to the Chaunceys. 
One of Miss Sally's brothers, a fine young 
officer in the navy, who was at home on 
leave, asked her one day if she could get on 
without him, and she said Yes, thinking that 
he had his orders to go to sea ; but in a few 
minutes she heard the noise of a pistol in his 
room, and hurried in to find him lying dead 
on the floor. Then there was another 
brother who was insane, and who became so 
violent that he was chained for years in one 
of the upper chambers, a dangerous prisoner. 
I have heard his horrid shrieks myself, when 
I was a young girl," said Miss Honora, with 
a shiver. 

"Miss Sally is insane, and has been for 
many years, and this seems to me the sad- 
dest part of the story. When she first lost 
her reason she was sent to a hospital, for 
there was no one who could take care of her. 
The mania was so acute that no one had the 
slightest thought that she would recover or 



274 DEEPHAVEN 

even live long. Her guardian sold the fur- 
niture and pictures and china, almost every- 
thing but clothing, to pay the bills at the hos- 
pital, until the house was fairly empty; and 
then one spring day — I remember it well — 
she came home in her right mind, and, with- 
out a thought of what was awaiting her, ran 
eagerly into her destroyed home. It was a 
terrible shock, and she never has recovered 
from it, though after a long illness her insanity 
took a mild form, and she has always been 
perfectly harmless. She has been alone many 
years, and no one can persuade her to leave 
the old house, where she seems to be con- 
tented, and does not realize her troubles ; 
though she lives mostly in the past, and 
has little idea of the present, except in her 
house affairs, which seem pitiful to me, for 
I remember the grand housekeeping of the 
Chaunceys when I was a child. I have been 
to see her, and she always knows me, though 
I go but seldom of late years. She is several 
years older than I. She has some old friends 
who take care that she does not suffer, 
though her wants are few. She is an elegant 
woman still ; and some day, if you like, I will 
give you something to carry to her, and a 
message, if I can think of one, and you must 
go to pay her a visit. I hope she will hap- 






MISS CHAUNCEY 275 

pen to be talkative, for I am sure you would 
enjoy her. For many years she did not like 
to see strangers, but some one has told me 
lately that she seems to be pleased if people 
go to see her." 

You may be sure it was not many days be- 
fore Kate and I claimed the basket and the 
message, and went again to East Parish. 
We boldly lifted the great brass knocker, and 
were dismayed because nobody answered. 
While we waited, a girl came up the walk 
and said that Miss Sally lived upstairs, and 
she would speak to her if we liked. " Some- 
times she don't have sense enough to know 
what the knocker means," we were told. 
There was evidently no romance about Miss 
Sally to our new acquaintance. 

'' Do you think," said I, " that we might 
go in ? Perhaps she will refuse to see us." 

"Yes, indeed," said the girl ; "everybody 
goes right in ; she is a little deaf. I '11 go and 
find her, somewhere upstairs." 

So we went into the great hall, with its 
wide staircase and handsome cornices and 
paneling, and then into the large parlor on 
the right, and could look through it to a 
smaller room opening on the garden, which 
sloped down to the river. Both rooms had 
fine carved mantels, with Dutch-tiled fire- 



276 DEEPHAVEN 

places, and in the cornices we saw the fas- 
tenings where pictures had hung, — old por- 
traits, perhaps. And what had become of 
them ? The girl did not know : the house 
had been the same ever since she could re- 
member, only it would all fall through into 
the cellar soon. But the old lady was proud 
as Lucifer, and wouldn't hear of moving out. 

The floor in the room toward the river was 
so broken that it was not safe, and our guide 
went back through the hall and opened the 
door at the foot of the stairs. " Guess you 
won't want to stop long there," said the girl. 
Three old hens and a rooster marched toward 
her with great solemnity as she glanced in. 
The cobwebs hung in the room, as they often 
do in old barns, in long, gray festoons ; the 
lilacs outside grew close against the two win- 
dows where the shutters were not drawn, and 
the light in the room was greenish and dim. 

Kate and I waited while the young neigh- 
bor went upstairs and announced us to Miss 
Sally, and in a few minutes we heard her 
come along the hall. 

" Sophia," said she, ''where are the gentry 
waiting ? " And just then she came in sight 
round the turn of the staircase. She wore 
the same great black bonnet and satin gown, 
and looked more old-fashioned and ghostly 



1 



MISS CHAUNCEY 277 

than before. She was not tall, but very 
erect, in spite of her great age, and her eyes 
seemed to " look through you" in an uncanny 
way. She slowly descended the stairs and 
came toward us with a courteous greeting; 
and when we had introduced ourselves as 
Miss Carew's friends, she gave us each her 
hand in a most cordial way, and said she was 
pleased to see us. She bowed us into the 
parlor and waved us toward two rickety, 
straight-backed chairs, which, with an old 
table, were all the furniture there was in the 
room. "Sit ye down," said she, herself tak- 
ing a place in the window-seat. I have seen 
few such elegant women as Miss Chauncey. 
Thoroughly at her ease, she had the fine 
manners of a lady of the olden times, using 
the quaint fashion of speech which she had 
been taught in her girlhood. The long words 
and ceremonious phrases suited her ex- 
tremely well. Her hands were delicately 
shaped, and she folded them in her lap, as 
no doubt she had learned to do at boarding- 
school so many years before. She asked 
Kate and me if we knew any young ladies at 
that school in Boston, saying that most of 
her intimate friends had left when she did, 
but some of the younger ones were there 
still. 



278 DEEPHAVEN 

She asked for the Carews and Mr. Lori- 
mcr ; and when Kate told her that she was 
Miss Brandon's niece, and asked if she had 
not known her, she said, "Certainly, my 
dear ; we were intimate friends at one time, 
but I have seen her little of late." 

"Do you not know that she is dead?" 
asked Kate. 

" Ah, they say that about every one now- 
adays. I do not comprehend the strange 
idea!" said the old lady impatiently. "It 
is an excuse, I suppose. She could come to 
see me if she chose, but she was always a 
ceremonious body, and I go abroad but sel- 
dom now; so perhaps she waits my visit. I 
will not speak uncourteously, and you must 
remember me to her kindly." 

Then she asked us about other old people 
in Deephaven, and about families in Boston 
whom she had known in her early days. I 
think every one of whom she spoke was 
dead, but we assured her that they were all 
well and prosperous, and believed that we 
told the truth. She asked about the love- 
affairs of men and women who had died old 
and gray-headed within our remembrance ; 
and finally she said we must pardon her for 
these tiresome questions, but it was so rarely 
that she saw any one direct from Boston, of 



MISS CHAUNCEY 279 

whom she could inquire concerning these old 
friends and relatives of her family. 

Something happened after this which 
touched us both inexpressibly : she sat for 
some time watching Kate with a bewildered 
look, which at last faded away, a smile com- 
ing in its place. " I think you are like my 
mother," she said ; "did any one ever say to 
you that you are like my mother ? Will you 
let me see your forehead ? Yes ; but your 
hair is a little darker." Kate had risen when 
Miss Chauncey did, and they stood side by 
side. There was a tone in the old woman's 
voice which brought the tears to my eyes. 
She stood there some minutes looking at 
Kate, and completely lost in thought. There 
was a kinship, it seemed to me, not of blood, 
only that they both were of the same stamp 
and rank : Miss Chauncey of the old genera- 
tion and Kate Lancaster of the new. Miss 
Chauncey turned to me, saying, " Look up 
at the portrait ; you must see the likeness 
too." But when she turned and saw only the 
bare wainscoting of the room, she looked 
puzzled, and the bright flash which had 
lighted up her face was gone in an instant, 
and she sat down again in the window-seat ; 
but we were glad that she had forgotten. 
Presently she said anxiously, '* Pardon me, 
dear, but I forget your question." 



28o DEEPHAVEN 

Miss Carew had told us to ask her about 
her school-days, as she nearly always spoke 
of that time to her ; and to our delight, Miss 
Sally told us a charming long story about her 
friends and about her '* coming-out party," 
when boat-loads of gay young guests came 
down from Riverport, and all the gentry 
from Deephaven. The band from the fort 
played for the dancing, the garden was 
lighted, the card-tables were in this room, 
and a grand supper was served beyond. She 
even remembered what some of her friends 
wore, and her own gown was a silver-gray 
brocade with rosebuds of three colors. She 
told us how she watched the boats go off up 
river in the middle of the summer night ; 
how sweet the music sounded ; how bright 
the moonlight was ; how she wished we had 
been there at her party. 

'' I can't believe I am an old woman. It 
seems only yesterday," said she thought- 
fully. And then she lost the idea, and talked 
about Kate's great-grandmother, whom she 
had known well, and asked us how she had 
been this summer. 

She asked us if we would like to go up 
stairs, where she had a fire, and we eagerly 
accepted, though we were not in the least 
cold. Ah, what a sorry place it was ! She 



MISS CHAUNCEY 281 

had gathered together some few pieces of her 
old furniture, which half filled one fine room, 
and here she lived. There was a tall, hand- 
some chest of drawers, which I should have 
liked much to ransack. Miss Carew had told 
us that Miss Chauncey had large claims 
against the government, dating back sixty 
or seventy years, but nobody could ever find 
the papers ; and I felt sure that they must 
be hidden away in some secret drawer. The 
brass handles and trimmings were blackened, 
and the wood looked like ebony. I wished 
to climb up and look into the upper part of 
this antique piece of furniture, for it seemed 
to me I could at once put my hand on a 
package of "papers relating to the em- 
bargo." 

On a stand near the window was an old 
Bible, fairly worn out with constant use. 
Miss Chauncey was most religious ; in fact, 
it was the only subject about which she was 
perfectly sane. We saw almost nothing of 
her insanity that day ; it was more like forget- 
fulness, though afterward she was different. 
There were days when her mind seemed 
clear; but sometimes she was silent, and 
often she would confuse Kate with Miss 
Brandon, and talk to her strangely of long- 
forgotten plans and people. She would rarely 



282 DEKPHAVEN 

speak of anything more than a minute or 
two, and then would drift into an entirely 
foreign subject. 

She urged us that afternoon to stay to 
luncheon with her ; she said she could not 
offer us dinner, but she would give us tea 
and biscuit, and no doubt we should find some- 
thing in Miss Carew's basket, as she was 
always kind in remembering her fancies. 
Miss Honora had told us to decline if she 
asked us to stay ; but I should have liked to 
see her sit at the head of her table, and to 
be a guest at such a lunch-party. 

Poor creature ! It was a blessed thing that 
her shattered reason made her unconscious 
of the change in her fortunes, and incapable 
of comparing the end of her life with its 
beginning. To herself she was still Miss 
Chauncey, a gentlewoman of high family, 
possessed of unusual worldly advantages. 
The remembrance of her cruel trials and 
sorrows had faded from her mind. She had 
no idea of the poverty of her surroundings 
when she paced back and forth, with stately 
steps, on the ruined terraces of her garden ; 
the ranks of lilies and the conserve-roses 
were still in bloom for her, and the box- 
borders were as trimly kept as ever ; and 
when she pointed out to us the distant 







J/iss C : ^^ ,. Garden 



MISS CHAUNCEY 285 

steeples of Riverport, it was plain to see 
that it was still the Riverport of her girl- 
hood. If the boat-landing at the foot of the 
garden had long ago dropped into the river 
and gone out with the tide ; if the maids and 
men who used to do her bidding were all out 
of hearing; if there had been no dinner 
company that day and no guests were ex- 
pected for the evening, — what did it mat- 
ter ? The twilight had closed around her 
gradually, and she was alone in her house, 
but she did not heed the ruin of it or the 
absence of her friends. On the morrow, life 
would again go on. 

We always used to ask her to read the 
Bible to us, after Mr. Lorimer had told us 
how touching and beautiful it was to listen 
to her. I shall never hear some of the 
Psalms or some chapters of Isaiah again 
without being reminded of her; and I re- 
member just now, as I write, one summer 
afternoon when Kate and I had lingered 
later than usual, and we sat in the upper 
room looking out on the river and the shore 
beyond, where the light had begun to grow 
golden as the day drew near sunset. Miss 
Chauncey had opened the great book at ran- 
dom and read slowly, "In my Father's house 
are many mansions ;" and then, looking off 



286 DEEPHAVEN 

for a moment at a fallen leaf which had 
blown into the window-recess, she repeated 
it : " In my Father's house are many man- 
sions ; if it were not so, I would have told 
you." Then she went on slowly to the end 
of the chapter, and with her hands clasped 
together on the Bible she fell into a reverie, 
and the tears came into our eyes as we 
watched her look of perfect content. Through 
all her clouded years the promises of God 
had been her only certainty. 

Miss Chauncey died early in the winter 
after we left Deephaven, and one day when 
I was visiting Kate in Boston, Mr. Lorimer 
came to see us, and told us about her last 
days. 

It seems that after much persuasion she 
was induced to go to spend the winter with 
a neighbor, her house having become un- 
inhabitable, and she was, beside, too feeble 
to live alone. But her fondness for her old 
home was too strong, and one day she stole 
away from the people who took care of her, 
and crept in through the cellar, where she 
had to go through half-frozen water, and then 
went upstairs, where she seated herself at a 
front window and called joyfully to the peo- 
ple who went by, asking them to come in to 
see her, for now she had got home again. 



MISS CHAUNCEY 287 

After this she was very ill ; and one day, 
when she was half delirious, they missed 
her, and found her at last sitting on her hall 
stairway, which she was too feeble to climb. 
She lived but a short time afterwards, and 
in her last hours her mind seemed perfectly 
clear. She said over and over again how 
good God had always been to her, and she 
was gentle, and unwilling to be a trouble to 
those who had the care of her. 

Mr. Lorimer spoke of her simple good- 
ness, and told us that though she had no 
other sense of time, and hardly knew if it 
were summer or winter, she was always sure 
when Sunday came, and always came to 
church when he preached at East Parish, her 
greatest pleasure seeming to be to give 
money, if there was a contribution. " She 
may be a lesson to us," added the old minis- 
ter reverently; ''for though bewildered in 
mind, bereft of friends and riches, and all 
that makes this world dear to many of us, 
she was still steadfast in her simple faith, 
and was never heard to complain of any of 
the burdens which God had given her." 




Last Days in Dccphavcn 



WHEN the summer was ended it was no 
sorrow to us, for we were even more 
fond of Deephaven in the glorious autumn 
weather than we had ever been before. Mr. 
Lancaster, Kate's father, was abroad longer 
than he had intended to be at first, and 
it was late in the season before we left. 
We were both ready to postpone going back 
to town as late as possible ; but at last it was 
time for my friend to reestablish the Boston 
housekeeping, and to take up her city life 
again. I must admit we half dreaded that : 
we were surprised to find how little we cared 
for it, and how well one can get on without 



LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN 289 

many things which are thought indispensa- 
ble. 

For the last fortnight we were in the house 
a good deal, because the weather was wet 
and dreary. At one time there was a mag- 
nificent storm, and we went every day along 
the shore in the wind and rain for a mile or 
two to see the furious great breakers come 
plunging in against the rocks. I never had 
seen such a wild, stormy sea as that ; the 
rage of it was awful, and the whole harbor 
was white with foam. The wind had blown 
northeast steadily for days, and it seemed to 
me that the sea never could be quiet and 
smooth and blue again, with soft white 
clouds sailing over it in the sky. It was a 
treacherous sea ; it was wicked ; it had all 
the trembling land in its power, if it only 
dared to send the great waves far ashore. 
All night long the breakers roared, and the 
wind howled in the chimneys, and in the 
morning we always looked fearfully across 
the surf and the tossing gray water to see 
if the lighthouse were standing firm on its 
rock. It was so slender a thing to hold its 
own in such a wide and monstrous sea. But 
the sun came out at last, and not many days 
afterward we went out with Danny and 
Skipper Scudder to say good-by to Mrs. Kew. 



290 DEEPHAVEN 

I have been many voyages at sea, but I never 
was so danced about in a little boat as I was 
that day. There was nothing to fear with 
so careful a crew, and we only enjoyed the 
roughness as we went out and in, though it 
took much manoeuvring to land us at the 
island. 

It was very sad work to us — saying good- 
by to our friends, and- we tried to make be- 
lieve that we should spend the next summer 
in Deephaven, and we promised at any rate to 
go down for a visit. We were glad when the 
people said they should miss us, and that they 
hoped we should not forget them and the old 
place. It touched us to find that they cared 
so much for us ; we thought it was only our- 
selves who had cared so much for them, and 
we said over and over again how happy we 
had been, and that it was such a happy sum- 
mer. Kate laughingly proposed one evening, 
as we sat talking by the fire and were par- 
ticularly contented, that we should copy the 
Ladies of Llangollen, and remove ourselves 
from society and its distractions. 

"I have thought often, lately," said my 
friend, ''what a good time they must have 
had, and I feel a sympathy and friendliness 
for them which I never felt before. We 
could have guests when we chose, as we 



LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN 291 

have had this summer, and we could study 
and grow very wise ; and what could be pleas- 
anter ? But I wonder if we should grow very 
lazy if we stayed here all the year round ; 
village life is not stimulating, and there 
would not be much to do in winter, though 
I do not believe that need be true ; one may 
be busy and useful in any place." 

" I suppose if we really belonged in Deep- 
haven we should think it a hard fate, and not 
enjoy it half so much as we have this sum- 
mer," said I. " Our idea of happiness would 
be making long visits in Boston ; and we 
should be heart-broken when we had to come 
away and leave our luncheon-parties, and 
symphony concerts, and visits, and fairs, the 
reading-club, and the children's hosjDital. We 
should think the people uncongenial and be- 
hind the times, and that the Ridge road was 
stupid and the long sands desolate ; while 
we remembered what delightful walks we 
had taken out Beacon Street to the three 
roads, and over the Cambridge Bridge. Per- 
haps we should even be ashamed of the dear 
old church for being so out of fashion. We 
should have the blues dreadfully, and think 
there was no society here, and wonder why 
we had to live in such a town." 

" What a gloomy picture ! " said Kate 



292 DEEPHAVEN 

laughing. " Do you know that I have under- 
stood something lately better than I ever 
did before ? it is that success and happiness 
are not things of chance with us, but of 
choice. I can see now how we might easily 
have had a dull summer here. Of course it 
is our own fault if the events of our lives are 
hindrances ; it is we who make them bad or 
good. Sometimes it is a conscious choice, 
but oftener unconscious. I suppose we edu- 
cate ourselves for taking the best of life or 
the worst, do not you ?" 

*' Dear old Deephaven ! " said Kate gently, 
after we had been silent a little while. '' It 
makes me think of one of its own old ladies, 
with her clinging to the old fashions and 
her respect for what used to be respectable 
when she was young. I cannot make fun 
of what was once dear to somebody, and em- 
bodied somebody's ideas of beauty or fitness. 
I don't dispute the usefulness of a new bus- 
tling, manufacturing town with its progres- 
sive ideas ; but there is a simple dignity in 
a town like Deephaven, as if it tried to be 
loyal to the traditions of its ancestors. It 
quietly accepts its altered circumstances, 
if it has seen better days, and has no harsh 
feelings toward the cities which have drawn 
away its business, but it lives on, making all 



LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN 293 

the old houses and boats and clothes last as 
long as possible." 

" I think one cannot help," said I, " hav- 
ing a difterent affection for an old place Hke 
Deephaven from that which one may have 
for a newer town. Here, though there are 
no exciting historical associations and none 
of the veneration which one has for the very- 
old cities and towns abroad, it is impossible 
not to remember how many people have 
walked the streets and lived in the houses. 
I was thinking to-day how many girls must 
have grown up in this house, and that their 
places have been ours ; we have inherited 
their pleasures, and perhaps have carried on 
work which they began. We sit in some- 
body's favorite chair and look out of the win- 
dow at the sea, and dream about our wishes 
and our hopes and plans just as they did be- 
fore us. Something of them still lingers 
where their lives were spent. We are often 
reminded of our friends who have died and 
feel their dear presence ; why are we not re- 
minded as surely of strangers in such a house 
as this, — finding some trace of the lives 
which were lived among the sights we see 
and the things we handle, as the incense of 
many masses lingers in some old cathedral, 
and one catches the spirit of longing and 



294 



DEEPIIAVEN 



prayer where so many heavy hearts have 
brought their burdens and have gone away 
comforted ? " 

*' When I first came here," said Kate, ** it 
used to seem very sad to me to find Aunt 




Somebody^ s Favorite Chair 

Katharine's Httle trinkets and possessions 
lying about the house. I have often thought 
of what you have just said. I heard Mrs. Pat- 
ton say the other day that there is no pocket 
in a shroud, and of course it is better that 
we should carry nothing out of this world. 
Yet I can't help wishing that it were pos- 
sible to keep some of my worldly goods 



LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN 295 

always. There are one or two books of mine 
and some little things which I have had a 
long time, and of which I have grown very 
fond. It makes me so sorry to think of their 
being neglected and lost. I cannot believe 
I shall forget these earthly treasures when I 
am in heaven, and I wonder if I shall not 
miss them. Is n't it strange to think of not 
reading one's Bible any more } I suppose 
this is a very low view of heaven, don't you ? " 
And we both smiled. 

" I think the next dwellers in this house 
ought to find a decided atmosphere of con- 
tentment," said I. *' Have you ever thought 
that it took us some time to make it your 
house instead of Miss Brandon's ? It used 
to seem to me that it was still under her 
management, that she was its mistress ; but 
now it belongs to you, and if I were ever to 
come back without you, I should find you 
here." 

It is bewildering to know that this is the 
last chapter, and that it must not be long. I 
remember so many of our pleasures of which 
I have hardly said a word. There were our 
guests, of whom I have told you nothing, and 
of whom there was so much to say. Of 
course we asked my Aunt Mary to stay with 



296 DEEPHAVEN 

US, and Miss Margaret Tennant, and many 
of our girl-friends. All our acquaintances 
who have yachts made the port of Deephaven 
if they were cruising in the neighboring 
waters. Once a most cheerful party of 
Kate's cousins and some other young people 
whom we knew very well came to visit us in 
this way, and the yacht was kept in the har- 
bor a week or more, while we were all as gay 
as bobolinks and went frisking about the 
country, and kept late hours in the sober old 
Brandon house. My Aunt Mary, who was 
with us, and Kate's aunt, Mrs. Thorniford, 
who knew the Carews, and was commander 
of the yacht-party, tried to keep us in order, 
and to make us ornaments to Deephaven 
society instead of reproaches and stumbling- 
blocks. Kate's younger brothers were with 
us, waiting until it was time for them to go 
back to college, and I think there never had 
been such picnics in Deephaven before, and 
I fear there never will be again. 

We are fond of reading, and we meant to 
do a great deal of it, as every one does who 
goes away for the summer ; but I must con- 
fess that our grand plans were not well 
carried out. Our Latin dictionaries were on 
the table in the west parlor until the sight 
of them mortified us ; and finally, to avoid 



LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN 297 

their silent reproach, I put them in the 
closet, with the excuse that it would be as 
easy to find them there, and they would be 
out of the way. We used to have the maga- 
zines sent us from town ; you would have 
smiled at the box of foreign books which we 
carried to Deephaven, and indeed we sent 
two or three times for others ; but I do not 
remember that we ever carried out that 
course of study which we had planned with 
so much interest. We were out of doors so 
much that there was often little time for any- 
thing else. 

Kate said one day that she did not care, 
in reading, to be always making new acquaint- 
ances, but to be seeing more of old ones ; and 
I think it a very wise idea. We each have 
our pet books ; Kate carries with her a much- 
worn copy of ''Mr. Rutherford's Children," 
which has been her delight ever since she 
can remember. Sibyl and Chryssa are dear 
old friends, though I suppose now it is not 
merely what Kate reads, but what she asso- 
ciates with the story. I am not often sepa- 
rated from Jean Ingelow's '* Stories told to 
a Child," that charmingly wise and pleasant 
little volume. It is always new, like Kate's 
favorite. It is very hard to make a list of 
the books one likes best, but I remember 



298 DEEPHAVEN 

that we had ''The Village on the Cliff," and 
"Henry Esmond," and "Tom Brown at 
Rugby," with his more serious ancestor, 
"Sir Thomas Browne." I am sure we had 
" Fenelon's Letters and Sermons," for we al- 
ways have those wherever we are ; and there 
was "Pet Marjorie," and " Rab," and "An- 
nals of a Parish," and "The Life of the 
Reverend Sydney Smith ; " beside Miss 
Tytler's " Days of Yore," and " The Holy 
and Profane State," by Thomas Fuller, from 
which Kate gets so much entertainment and 
profit. We did read some of I\Ir. Emerson's 
essays together, out of doors, and several 
plays of Shakespeare and some stories which 
had been our dear friends at school, like 
" Leslie Goldthwaite," for old time's sake. 
There was a very good library in the house, 
and we both like old books, so we enjoyed 
that. And we used to read the Spectator, 
and many old-fashioned stories and essays 
and sermons, with much more pleasure be- 
cause they had such quaint old brown leather 
bindings. You will not doubt that we had 
brought all our most cherished volumes of 
poetry, or that we used to read them aloud 
to each other when we sat in our favorite 
corner of the rocks at the shore, or were in 
the pine woods of an afternoon. 



LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN 299 

We used to go out to take tea, and to dine 
and do a great deal of social visiting, which 
was very pleasant. It was a great attention 
to be asked to spend the day, which courtesy 
we used to delight in extending to our 
friends ; and we entertained in that way 
often. When we first went out, we were 
somewhat interesting on account of our 
clothes, which were of later pattern than had 
been adopted generally in Deephaven. We 
used to take great pleasure in arraying our- 
selves on high days and holidays, since when 
we went wandering on shore, or out sailing 
or rowing, we did not always dress as befitted 
our position in the town : fish-scales and black- 
berry-briers so soon disfigure one's every-day 
clothes. 

We became in the course of time learned 
in all manner of 'longshore lore, and even 
profitably employed ourselves one morning 
in going clam-digging with old Ben Horn, a 
most fascinating ancient mariner. We both 
grew perfectly well and brown and strong, 
and Kate and I did not get tired of each 
other at all, which I think was wonderful, 
for few friendships would bear such a test. 
We were together always, and alone together 
a great deal, and we became wonderfully 
well acquainted. We are such good friends 



300 DEEPHAVEN 

that we often were silent for a long time, 
when mere acquaintances would have felt 
compelled to talk and try to entertain each 
other. 

Before we left, the leaves had fallen off all 
the trees except the oaks, which make in cold 
weather one of the dreariest sounds one ever 
hears : a shivering rustle, which makes one 
pity the tree and imagine it shelterless and 
forlorn. The sea had looked rough and cold 
for many days, and the old house itself had 
grown chilly, — all^the world seemed waiting 
for the snow to come. There was nobody 
loitering on the wharves, and when we went 
down the street we walked fast, arm in arm, 
to keep warm. The houses were shut up as 
close as possible, and the old sailors did not 
seem cheery any longer ; they looked forlorn, 
and it was not a pleasant prospect to be so 
long weather-bound in port. If they ventured 
out, they put on ancient great-coats, with huge 
flaps to the pockets and large horn buttons, 
and they looked contemptuously at the vane, 
which always pointed to the north or east. 
It felt like winter, and the captains rolled 
more than ever as they walked, as if they 
were on deck in a heavy sea. The rheuma- 
tism claimed many victims ; and there was 
one day, it must be confessed, when a biting, 



LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN 303 

icy fog was blown in-shore, that Kate and I 
were willing to admit that we could be as 
comfortable in town, and it was almost time 
for sealskin jackets. 

In the front yards we saw the flower-beds 
black with frost, except a few brave pansies 
which had kept green and bloomed under 
the tall china-aster stalks, and one day we 
picked some of these little flowers to put 
between the leaves of a book and take away 
with us. I think we loved Deephaven all 
the more in those last days, with a bit of 
compassion in our tenderness for the dear 
old town, which had so little to amuse it. 
So long a winter was coming ; but we thought 
with a sigh, how pleasant it would be in the 
spring. 

You would have smiled at the treasures we 
brought away with us ; we had become so 
fond of even our fishing-lines ; and this very 
day you may see in Kate's room two great 
bunches of Deephaven cat-o'-nine-tails. They 
were much in our way on the journey home, 
but we clung affectionately to these last 
sheaves of our harvest. 

The morning we came away our friends 
were all looking out from door or window to 
see us go by ; and after we had passed the 
last house and there was no need to smile 



304 DEEPHAVEN 

any longer, we were very dismal. The sun 
was shining again bright and warm, as if the 
Indian summer were beginning, and we 
wished that it had been a rainy day. 

The thought of Deephaven will always 
bring to us our long, quiet summer days, 
and reading aloud on the rocks by the sea, 
the fresh salt air, and the glory of the sun- 
sets ; the wail of the Sunday psalm-singing 
at church, the yellow lichen that grew over 
the trees, the houses, and the stone-walls ; 
our boating and wanderings ashore ; our 
unlooked-for importance as members of so- 
ciety, and how kind every one was to us both. 
By and by the Deephaven warehouses will 
fall and be used for. firewood by the fisher- 
people, and the wharves will be worn away 
by the tides. The few old gentlefolks who 
still linger will be dead then; and I wonder 
if some day Kate Lancaster and I may not 
go down to Deephaven for the sake of old 
times, and read the epitaphs in the burying- 
ground, look out to sea, and talk quietly about 
the two girls who were so happy there one 
summer long before. I should like to walk 
along the beach at sunset, and watch the 
color of the marshes and the sea change as 
the light of the sky goes out. It would 
make the old days come back vividly. We 



LAST DAYS IN DEEPHAVEN 3^5 

should see the roofs and chimneys of the 
village, and the great Chantrey elms look 
black against the sky. A Httle later the 
marsh fog would show faintly white, and we 
should feel it deliciously cold and wet against 
our hands and faces ; when we looked up 
there w^ould be a star ; the crickets would 
chirp loudly ; perhaps some late sea-birds 
would fly inland. Turning, we should see 
the lighthouse lamp shine out over the water, 
and the great sea would move and speak to 
us lazily in its idle, high-tide sleep. 




J 

J) 



sa 






% <^'^'- 



<\V tp^ 



^^ -^ct 



,\>' 



X'-V 'd^. 



,.s^ 



.\' 



'•-V^ 



X^' -S 



x*^' 



- -»>' to 












.%". -v. 



